The Road to Emmaus
by dabbling
Summary: Continuation where Blindsided left off. Bobby's long journey back from the depression brought on by the death of his family and the falling of his greatest hero. B/A in love and in friendship, woven through the events we all saw on the LOCI episodes. Kind of like watching the show, but with lots of behind the scenes and in betweens.
1. Faithfully

A/N This story picks up where Blindsided left off; a tale of love and friendship between Bobby and Alex as they move through the events of the LOCI episodes. In case you didn't know, they aired the episodes out of order. In this story I will move through the eps in the order we think they were supposed to have been in, based on the production dates.

* * *

The Road to Emmaus

Chapter 1 - Faithfully

He'd come back too soon. She'd told him so. She'd told him he wasn't ready, but he insisted. Bobby just needed something in his life to feel normal again, and while his relationship with Alex was the best thing that had ever happened to him, it wasn't enough. He felt lost. He felt like he was marking time.

They'd argued over it, too. He'd raised his voice.

_"There's nothing wrong with me! I can do the fucking job in my sleep, Alex!"_

_ "I didn't say you can't do the job, Bobby. I didn't say that. I just think that maybe right now, you shouldn't."_

_ "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"_

_ "Bobby, don't make me spell it out. You need some time. Time to heal."_

_ "Forgive me, but I don't see how sitting around staring at a fucking wall is supposed to help me heal. I need to be… out there. I need to be… engaged."_

_ "I wish you would see someone."_

_ "Oh, don't start with that again. I saw Olivet. I did my time."_

_ "That's just it. You did your time. You got your little doctor's note, but you didn't get any other damn thing out of it."_

_ "Well what the hell was she supposed to tell me, Eames? That my whole family is gone and it's okay to feel bad about that? I don't see the point in going in there week after week after week to talk about how much it… hurts."_

_ Alex frowned. He was so right, and he was so wrong. Olivet could help, she was sure of that, if he would only give it a chance. And he was hurting, and he was trying very hard not to buckle from all the pain. "Okay, all right," she said finally, lowering her voice. "But Bobby, promise me you'll think about it first. Just one more time, think about it."_

And he'd thought about it that night, and he'd gone into 1PP the next morning. He worked beside her for five weeks and three days, and she saw the bags under his eyes growing and she saw how he was still relying on comfort food.

He was wearing himself out, and he had a very short fuse. She tried delicately to get him to take care of himself, and he snapped and snarled and she was forced to back away.

Then, all of a sudden as they were packing to go home for the night, Bobby announced, "I'm taking a vacation."

"Oh?" Alex asked, surprised.

"Yeah, uh… Ross, he, uh, he…" Bobby shrugged. "He told me to take a couple weeks or see Olivet again." He looked down as he spoke.

"Bobby, that's, well that's okay. Maybe it will help. Where're you going?" She knew he wasn't going to see Olivet.

"I, uh… I don't know yet. I've got a couple of ideas."

"Well, let me know, okay?" They hadn't been romantic in a while, but Alex still felt a connection to him. She still felt she deserved to know what went on in his life.

"Sure, yeah, of course." Bobby grinned. "Probably need you to take me to the airport or something, anyway."

He gave her a tiny grin, and Alex returned it. She hoped he would ask her. She would do anything for him.

* * *

Bobby felt gritty, like when you have a spot of house paint on your arm and you rub and it pinches and pulls until it breaks into a million tiny balls that cling to your skin until you finally give up and shower them off. And everybody and everything was pinching and pulling and rubbing at him. Especially Alex.

He loved Alex. He loved her dearly, and he knew… he KNEW… what she'd done for him. He was grateful. But he was so gritty it didn't come off that way.

She pinched, and he bit back. She pulled, and he jerked away. She rubbed, and he chafed. He couldn't keep it up anymore, so he backed away from her personally. He couldn't back away professionally, that would have undermined every effort he'd made toward normalcy. But personally, he drew back. He stayed home. He drank alone. His greatest pleasure was challenging himself to cook more and more complex meals. He was the only one who ate them, but he savored every bite.

He'd talked to them seven times. They were Brady's family, and so they were Bobby's family. His only family. Bobby hadn't told Alex about them.

Everything was rattling around in his brain. That was the problem, really. There were too many questions, too many unresolved issues, and too many things to think about. On a night when his brain was attacking the idea that his father was a serial killer, a new thought had come to him. He might still have family. Even though Frank was gone, and Mom was gone… someway, somewhere, there might be someone who had the same blood as he did.

So he had done some research. And he had found Kathy. And after days of telling himself they wouldn't want anything to do with the son of a serial killer, he remembered she was the daughter of a serial killer, and they were siblings. Bobby called her.

She knew all about Brady's final days. She'd attended his execution, not because she cared about Brady himself, but because she had to give closure to herself and to this idea she had of "father." She hadn't told her kids about him. He had never been a part of their lives. But they knew her father had been absent from her life, and so she told them about her half-brother Bobby. They wanted to meet him.

Bobby was going to meet them. He was going to make contact with the last people on Earth he could call his family.

* * *

Alex tossed and turned in bed. She couldn't stop thinking of Bobby. She thought back to their argument and she was reminded of herself in the days when she was still seeing Olivet, barely recovered from her traumatic abduction by Jo Gage.

They'd had almost the same argument back then, only it was Bobby who'd been trying to keep her from coming back too soon. And she finally got the okay from Olivet and Alex had told Bobby "I'm not getting any better by myself."

And now she thought maybe that was true for Bobby, too. Alex was doing everything she could for him, but he was in a steady decline. He wasn't sleeping, and he was valiantly fighting depression. And even before he'd pulled away from her, he'd been fluctuating between deep, draining meditation and trying to escape it all.

Mostly he drank. He'd come in hung over more times since his brother died than in all the years she'd known him. And in the early days after Frank's death he'd escaped by having sex. Alex had indulged him in that, thinking it would help him somehow, but it had only made their relationship more complicated. And he had disappeared a few times, as well, some kind of overnight excursion. He wouldn't talk about those nights, except to promise her that there were no other women in his life.

She believed him. After all they'd been through, though he might not be forthcoming, when asked a direct question Bobby was honest with her.

Now she wondered where he was going on this vacation. She wished wholeheartedly that she could go with him. Alex sighed heavily and did the only thing she could do for him. She said a prayer.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Bobby stood outside the terminal, his suitcase resting on the curb beside him. He wore jeans, a button down over his t-shirt, and a light windbreaker. The weather in Michigan was a little on the damp side today, not exactly raining, but dramatic clouds overhead that threatened to open up and pour at the least provocation. He'd clipped his badge to the neckline of his t-shirt. It was the only way Kathy would recognize him.

"Robert?" she said, and he spun to his left. She was a year younger than him, with a full head of short, straight gray hair. She was flanked by a tall man in his 30s. He hung back politely, but he was obviously there for her protection.

"Kathy?"

She smiled at him, and there followed an awkward moment that might have been a handshake but turned into a hug. "It's good to meet you," she told Bobby as she pulled away. She gestured to the man beside her. "This is Dale. He's a friend," she explained.

Bobby understood completely. Their father was Mark Ford Brady, after all. He picked up his suitcase and followed them to her cluttered van. Dale politely took the back seat, in the middle of the soccer gear and left-behind homework papers.

"I could have gotten a cab," Bobby said.

"Oh, no one does that out here. It would have cost you an arm and a leg."

"Still, you're missing work—"

"St. Michael's has been very good about everything to do with my… family," Kathy said. She was the librarian at the Catholic School in Lebanon, that much Bobby had learned from their phone conversations.

Bobby nodded silently from his perch in the front passenger seat. "Thank you," he finally mumbled politely.

"Your husband…?" he asked.

"He works here in Lansing. He'll be home for dinner tonight."

"Good. I'd like to... to meet him. The kids are in school?"

"Oh, yes. Martin's a junior this year. And Molly is in 4th grade, and Timmy is in 3rd. Do you have any children, Robert?"

"Oh… no. I, uh… I never married." The rest of the hour long drive was filled with small talk. Bobby was very tight-lipped about his family. It still hurt to talk about them. It hurt a lot.

"Thank you, Dale," Kathy said when they had all settled into her living room.

He threw her a look of warning, but she threw a stern look back at him. Bobby didn't miss any of it. He understood the reason for their caution, but it didn't make it any less uncomfortable.

"You'll be in Martin's bedroom," Kathy announced. "Just up the stairs on the right side. There's a bathroom at the end of that hall up there, and one down here as well.

Bobby muttered his thanks and took his suitcase upstairs. He studied Martin's things, trying not to investigate too deeply, but his raging curiosity was hard to keep at bay. He used the restroom as well, and when he returned to Kathy downstairs, Dale was gone.

"Do you like coffee?" Kathy asked, and Bobby nodded. She motioned for him to sit at the table, and he did. She passed him a steaming mug, offering cream and sugar, which he declined. Then she joined him at the table with her own cup in front of her.

"This may be our only chance to talk," she told him. "Once the kids get home, all the priorities change. And Hank, he knows about Brady, but he gets very… uncomfortable… when I try to talk about him."

Bobby nodded. "It's a very uncomfortable thing," he said quietly.

"You said you met him?"

"Investigated him… those last… confessions… he would only talk to me and my partner about them."

"It must have been horrible. Did you know? Did he know?"

"I didn't know he was my father. It was something I sort of… discovered along the way." Bobby chewed his bottom lip and took a small sip of coffee. "I think he knew about me. It seemed like maybe he knew." _He told Eames that ledger was a birthday present for me, _Bobby thought. _My birthday is in August, nowhere near the date he was executed._

"What was he like?" she asked.

Bobby frowned and scratched his beard with his hand. "He was very smart," he said. He didn't want to tell her how horrible he was, that meeting him in person gave a depth to the horror of the crimes he'd committed that could never come through by simply reading about him or watching the news. "He spoke German, I guess he learned that when he was stationed there in the Army."

"I saw him on television. And of course the night of the execution. On tv, he seemed happy. Proud. That night, he seemed… defiant."

Again, Bobby let go a small nod. "He knew it was over."

"It gave me chills, reading what he'd done."

Bobby nodded again, and his teeth squeezed over his bottom lip. "How did you find out?"

"My mother told me," she said. "My mother met him at the lake. In Sullivan County. That's where she grew up. She worked at the little hardware store there. I guess he came in looking for some tools or something. She dated him for several months and then when he'd gone back to New York, she found out she was pregnant. My Granddad was furious. He moved the family here, made up some story about her being raped. Well, maybe it wasn't a lie after all," Kathy amended. "But Mom never said she was raped. She said she was a stupid teenager who fell in love."

"He never knew about you?"

"Granddad went back up there once. Mom said Grandma told her it was to find Brady and make him do his duty as a father. But Granddad came back and never spoke a word about it. Grandma found out Brady had a reputation by then. He had two and three and even four women in and out of that shack every month. And from his reputation in town, he never had any money to his name. If he had known about me, it would have only complicated things for all of us. So no one ever told him." Kathy took a long drink of coffee.

"My mother was up there with him… once," Bobby said, before he realized that wasn't a story he wanted to share.

"Oh?"

He shook his head. "It ended badly." With that, Bobby changed the subject. He asked her about her life, and her husband and kids. He told her about Korea and his time on the force. At 3:30, the kids arrived home from school.

* * *

"Eames," she said.

"Alex," Bobby said.

"Bobby! How are you?"

"Fine, you know. Fine. I'm in Michigan," he said.

"Michigan? That's good. Are you having a good time?"

"Yeah, uh… you know, yeah." He chewed on the inside of his cheek. "It's nothing like the city. All farmland and stuff."

"Sounds like a nice change."

"I miss you."

His words hit her hard, and knocked her for a loop. "I'm here, Bobby. You wanna talk?"

"N-no. Not on the phone. Not like this. I just wanted to say… I miss you."

"I miss you, too."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

"And you catch criminals? Like murderers and stuff?"

Bobby shrugged and nodded. Molly was taking him for a long walk through the bean field.

"Do you have a gun?"

"Yeah, sure, all cops do."

"You know…" she showed him a huge smile. "I don't think I would be able to do that. I couldn't shoot anybody. And I think if I ever met a murderer, I'd probably… I don't know, I'd be really scared. Do you ever get scared?"

Her last comment had brought forth the image of Brady. Her grandfather, though she'd probably never know it. "Doesn't everybody?" Bobby said with a shrug. "What will you be when you grow up, Molly?" he asked.

"I don't know. I like the library, like Mom does? But I think I would get bored, you know, being quiet all day. I kinda think it would be cool to be a pilot. Maybe I could fly the big airliners and travel all over the world. But then I think maybe God wants me to help people. So then I think maybe I should be a doctor or a nurse."

"Sounds like you have a lot of good ideas."

"My best friend Paula? She wants to be a movie star. She wants me to be one, too, so we can be together all the time. But I don't think I could ever kiss anybody I didn't love. Do you think those actresses actually kiss those guys? Or do they fake it somehow?"

Bobby grinned. "I think they actually kiss."

She made a sour face. "Nope. I couldn't do that. Maybe I'll be a nun. Then I won't have to kiss anybody."

Bobby looked down at his shoes with a grin.

* * *

Alex hadn't heard from him since that first night. It only made her miss him that much worse. At least when he was here in the city, she knew he was only an arm's length away. He was in Michigan, another state. A plane ride. That was too far, as far as Alex was concerned. But she couldn't call him. Whatever he was doing, he was doing it for a reason, and she didn't want to interfere. Maybe he was getting what he needed. Maybe he was healing.

She went out to see her sister, and was on the ferry back when her phone rang. "Eames."

"Eames, are you still with your family?"

"No, I'm just coming into the city, Captain. I'm on the ferry."

"Good, we've got a case."

"Where's the crime scene?"

"Doctor got killed. Upper East Side. Can you get there?"

"Yeah, have a car meet me."

"I'll have Goren meet you. He just walked in."

* * *

Bobby stood outside the Ferry dock. He didn't notice the whispy clouds in the blue sky. He noticed Eames. He felt like he hadn't seen her in years.

She approached him with a warm smile, like she'd been wanting to see him. Like she was happy to see him. Bobby's heart jumped a little, that she could still feel that way about him, after everything.

"You were supposed to be away another week," she told him.

He ducked his head down and gave her a nod before looking back. He couldn't not look back at her. "Yeah, I got… back… last night. I… I went and saw family."

She was surprised. He'd never hinted he had more family, and now she wondered who they were. Alex shoved the thoughts aside. He would tell her, in time. She nodded. "You look good," she announced.

Bobby kept his head down. He didn't look good. Well, not to anyone but Eames, maybe. "Thanks," he muttered quietly. "You know, we should get going." She was still smiling at him, still genuinely happy to see him, and Bobby didn't think he could handle that, what he and Alex had, right now. Work was the best distraction.

* * *

The local detective gave them his impressions.  
"I make it to be a simple B&E gone bad. Smashes a window, ties up the wife, tosses the place. Takes some jewelry, coin collection, but he leaves 400 bucks in a handbag. Victim surprised him."

Alex took it with a grain of salt. "I'm a burglar," she said, "I get caught, my first instinct is to flee."

Bobby agreed. He stood bent over the victim's body. "Yeah, maybe disable the victim, but, uh… finish him off?"

"What do we know about the victim?" Alex asked.

"Dr. Ryan Conlon, 35."

"I know that name. All over the sports section a couple of months ago. Got fired as the doctor for the Cougars."

"He must have landed on his feet," the detective interjected. "Electronics are all high end," he said with a nod. The CSU team was dusting part of the man's home entertainment system for prints.

"And not stolen," Alex observed. They both sighed. "What's the timeline?" She asked.

"He did his rounds at Lenox Hill, then he caught the 11:00 services at St. Edgar's, got home by 12:40, 12:45."

"There's another bloody footprint here," Bobby said slowly, quietly.

Alex glanced down where he gestured. "The killer wore boots?"

"The track looks like… motorcycle boots."

After a quick conference, they decided to speak with the living victim, who was quarantined in her bedroom being watched over by EMTs.

Alex asked her to describe the perp, and she said he wore a ski mask and was maybe six feet tall. She said he had blue gray eyes.

"You were expecting someone?" Bobby asked.

"No," the woman lied. Neither detective spoke. She was in her underwear, and the perp had bound her with duct tape while he robbed her and killed her husband. They both knew she was lying. "No," she said again, adjusting the blanket over her bare skin. "I, uh, I was alone all morning."

"We'll talk to you after they check you at the hospital," Alex said. She brushed her hand over the woman's back as the EMTs escorted her out to the ambulance.

"Lace teddy, makeup," Bobby said, but he didn't have to. Alex had noticed, too.

"Perfume," Alex added. Either she was planning a matinee with the doctor, or she was _entertaining_, as my Mom would say." She started out of the room.

Bobby spun back toward the bed to hide his smile. Eames could always make him smile. Composed again, he turned back and followed her down the stairs.

"Check the bedding for semen," she told the CSU crew.

Bobby grabbed the doctor's briefcase and began to empty it. They found a tabloid announcing a star player was addicted to painkillers. He withdrew a file folder as they postulated that the doctor had been supplementing his income.

* * *

"You look rested," Ross said. "Hope you had a good time," he said and shook Bobby's hand. The two men had come a long way in their relationship, but they weren't exactly friends. The handshake was firm and heartfelt on both sides, but they didn't face each other as they bonded, and Bobby never said a word.

"What have you got?" Ross asked.

They filled him in, and Bobby handed him the tabloid. "It might have been a payback killing. The victim had that and the number of the Ledger on his speed dial."

"Dr. Conlon was, until recently, the team doctor for the Cougars. Cleon Lewis was their star running back," Alex added.

Bobby spoke again. He was the the only one in the group who had found his way to a seat. "The Ledger's not admitting anything, but we think they might have bought the medical records from Conlon."

"What about leads from the canvas?" The Captain asked.

"A woman taking out the trash saw someone peel out of the alley on a black motorcycle, black helmet, gloves."

"Great," Ross said with a sarcastic smile. "Batman."

Bobby's head snapped up. "Actually, Batman was a vigilante, sir." It was the kind of thing that used to cause tension between them, but Ross took it well. He turned back and listened, and then let it go with a nod. It wasn't personal. Goren was just being Goren. And that in and of itself meant he was making progress. The Captain turned and walked back to his office without noticing the smile or the soft chuckle of Detective Eames.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Cleon Lewis was still angry, even though Conlon was dead. "That douchebag had no right selling my…story… just because his ass got fired."

"When's the last time you saw Dr. Conlon?" Bobby asked.

"Day before yesterday. And…" he admitted, "I got in his face. See, I know he was behind it."

"He denied it?" Alex asked.

"A guy like that's not about to sack up."

"Which… made you angrier?" Bobby asked, his eyes on Eames, who was moving slowly closer to Lewis.

"Hey! Conlon was spreading lies about me being addicted… What happened to him don't help my case. It actually messes me up. See, I got a lawyer, and we're suing Conlon. I'm not going to get my money off a man if I off him. You feel me?"

They discussed the interview outside on the sidewalk. Spring was moving in, but it was still cold enough for a coat, even if you had to open it in the afternoons when the sun was bright.

"He presented it as logic, but still, it's an excuse," Alex said. "He could have lost his temper, didn't stop to think…"

"I wouldn't say he was in the clear," Bobby agreed.

"Shall we see how far the doctor spread his particular brand of joy?"

Bobby nodded, looking off at something across the street. "The last people to see him were in Church." With that, they headed to St. Edgar's.

The secretary informed them that Conlon was a big contributor to the Church and attended regularly. In addition, a lot of his patients were involved in the Church.

They met Alison, the Reverend's wife, and she thanked them for taking on the case. She was glad to know Major Case was handling things and intimated that she expected discretion where the public was concerned.

Bobby stammered when he spoke, and he spoke very slowly. Alex knew he was exhausted again, but there was nothing to be done about it. She stood by and listened as he asked his drawling question. "And… Dr… Conlon… he was…uh… here… the-sh-shortly b-before his death?"

"Yes, I remember greeting him," Alison said.

"His wife called here, uhm, after services," the secretary called out from her seat in the office, "wanted him home for lunch." Both detectives turned toward her.

"It's strange she wouldn't have called him on his cell phone," Alex said.

"Cell phones are a no-no in our Church," Alison explained.

Bobby had turned to the secretary, "And what time was that—" Upon processing what the Reverend's wife had said, he looked up at Alison and smiled. "of course they are." He nodded at Alison, then turned his head back to the secretary. "That call was at noon?"

"I talked to her at 12:15. It's logged." Bobby took in the woman's answer and turned his head to his partner.

"Is Carrie's call somehow important?" Alison asked, but the detectives gave their standard non-answer. _We don't know, maybe, just being thorough._

* * *

"That morning, I didn't call at 12:15 or any other time."

"The church secretary says one thing and you say another," Alex said. "I mean, who are we to believe?"

"I didn't call her!" The woman said to Goren, obviously becoming upset. "I swear!"

Bobby was sitting across from her, his binder open, pencil in hand, and his knee bouncing softly under the leather. "Well, maybe she's telling the truth. Maybe there's a reason why she didn't want her husband home," he said to Alex.

"Yeah, right!" Alex replied, excited. "Who were you with," she asked, when the woman realized what they were getting at.

She looked back and forth between them. "No one."

"DNA results, will put someone else in that bed," Alex explained.

"I don't have a lover!"

It was Bobby's turn, now. "Somebody breaks in and… kills your husband, leaves you alive… I—" he looked over at Alex. "Killers usually don't leave witnesses." He turned back to Carrie. "So what happened? Uh, your husband came home and found you with someone?"

"I was alone! After he taped me up, he waited for my husband!"

"Oh, so… you hired the guy," Alex conjectured.

"No! That's crazy!"

"It happens, Carrie, all the time," Alex told her. "Successful professional, hefty life insurance policy, unhappy wife… with a lover."

She looked at each of the detectives in shock. "I should not be talking to you," Carrie announced, getting to her feet. "He taped me up! He hit me! And you think that I killed Ryan! Uh… I… I need to call a lawyer. I'm not talking to you anymore."

Bobby closed his binder and got to his feet, leading Alex out of the woman's house.

* * *

"I don't think so." Bobby said it slowly, but very clearly.

"You don't think she set it up?"

"Well, of course it's a possibility, but no. I don't think so."

"Everything is pointing that way," Alex told him. They were back at the squad, holed up in an interview room. Dinner was long since devoured, a mess of take-out cartons left behind on the table. Alex sat on the other end of the table top, swinging her feet as a way to keep her blood moving. Bobby sat in the chair behind her, staring at the case board, and at her backside, and at his own hands folded in front of him.

"She was really upset when she realized we suspected her."

"She's upset because we're on to her."

"It didn't seem that way… to me. It seemed real. Indignation. Fear. Anxiety."

"Maybe," Alex conceded with a shrug. "Motorcycle boots. That's who we KNOW we have to find. Then we can sort out the rest."

"Yeah," Bobby agreed. He covered his mouth as he was overtaken with a yawn.

"Have you been sleeping okay?" Alex asked quietly, looking down over her shoulder at him.

"Depends on what okay means," Bobby admitted.

Alex gave him a small, but worried, smile. He was still honest with her. "Look, go home and rest. Conlon's funeral is tomorrow morning."

After a moment's indecision, Bobby pressed his hands flat against the table top. He pushed himself up to his feet. "I'll see you there," he said, and scooped up the trash from dinner into his hands. He tossed it into the bin in the corner, pulled the door open, and gave her one last glance before walking out to retrieve his coat.

* * *

As it turned out, they missed the funeral and arrived in time for the wake. Alison hurried over and met them in the doorway. "Detectives," she said. "This is hardly the time. These people are paying their respects."

Bobby stuttered at first, but grew bolder as he spoke. "W-well, we're investigating Dr. Conlon's murder. I think that," he lowered his voice to a whisper and leaned closer to her ear, "qualifies as very respectful." Alex, though she was a few steps ahead of them, cocked her head and listened to his every word. She threw Bobby a glance as he stepped purposefully away from the Reverend's wife.

The two detectives walked slowly through the room, their eyes scanning every person there from top to bottom. While this sort of thing was procedure, it could be very dangerous. If the killer was present, their presence could make him panic. If the killer was in fight or flight mode, anything could happen. They stayed close enough together to back each other up, and did their work as quickly as possible.

Alex spotted the acolyte, and stared for a moment, before turning her head Bobby's way. She pointed with her nose and lowered her head quickly. "Boots," she said quietly when her partner was close enough.

Bobby saw them as soon as she said the word. He gave the boy a long look, then turned to look at someone else as if he wasn't interested. "Could be for a motorcycle," he said.

They walked outside and down the steps of the Church. The scanned the parking along the road, looking for motorcycles. There was one near the garden entrance. It wasn't all black, as the witness had said, but had blue flames on the fuel tank. Bobby ran his hand over the tank and the flame design.

"You know, the blue isn't shiny like the black. It's sticky," he told Eames. "Adhesive?" he asked her.

Alex stepped closer and reached in with her own hands. "You put electrical tape on those blue flames, and the bike is solid black," Alex said.

"Hey, that's my bike," the acolyte announced, striding over to them.

"It's nice," Bobby called out. He paced around it as the young man sat down on the seat. "I like the blue flames," Goren added. "That's… uh, custom?" he asked, and swooped in to feel it again with his hand.

"Look, I gotta split," the boy said. "I have a class." As they were talking, the Reverend and his wife strode over, watching intently.

Alex spoke next. "Yeah, we need to talk a little."

"What's going on here?" asked Alison.

Bobby answered. "Well, we would like your… acolyte to account for his time Sunday morning around 11:00."

"Well, that's easy," the Reverend spoke. "Kevin was in services with us."

"Any way you can make us certain of that?" Alex inquired. While the Reverend replied, Bobby leaned forward, having seen something just inside the neck of Kevin's t-shirt. He stretched the collar down with one hand.

"There were a dozen other acolytes there," he was saying.

Kevin's neck was bruised, just at the nape.

"Hey, you don't get to touch me, understand?!" Kevin protested when Bobby reached in again. He smacked Goren's hand away.

"All right," Bobby grunted.

"All right, we'll just talk," Alex commanded. "Downtown," she said, and took Kevin by the elbow. Bobby pushed from the other side while Alex pulled, and soon he was off the bike.

"Okay, Kevin we're going to hire you an attorney," the Reverend called out. "Do not speak to them before you speak to him, you hear me?"

Bobby examined the motorcycle one last time while Alex continued to march Kevin down the sidewalk. Goren followed, and turned his head back to the minister as he was walking.

"You're wrong about this young man," he said.

Alex and Kevin walked to the SUV, and Bobby swaggered behind.

* * *

There was a day's worth of work while Kevin sat in holding. They couldn't talk to him without his lawyer, and so interrogation was on hold. Bobby did the paperwork requesting a search and seizure of the motorcycle. Alex ran Kevin's background.

It took a lot of doing, but Alex filled in all the gaps. Kevin had been a foster child, and though he had been adopted, as an adult he had discarded his adoptive surname in favor of his given one. This made the background check take a lot longer than usual.

When she finally figured it out, she shared her findings with Bobby. He soaked it all in and made some notes in his binder.

"So, uh," Alex asked when they finally were packing it in for the night, "Who's in Michigan?"

"Oh? Uh…" he bit his bottom lip before giving her an answer. "My s-s-s-sister. Half-sister."

Alex cocked her head.

"Uh, yeah, uh, Brady, he had a daughter."

This surprised her. Not that Brady had a daughter, but that Bobby had gone to such lengths to find her, to meet her.

"Yeah, she's uh… She's, you know, nice. Married, and three kids. Good people."

She pressed her lips together and nodded, trying to demonstrate her acceptance of all of this, even though she really didn't know his reasoning. She hoped Bobby would tell her more, but he didn't.

They ended up in the elevator together. "I heard what you said to her. Alison?"

Bobby made eye contact for a second, and then looked down at his shoes.

"My sentiments exactly," she told him. Alex gave his hand a squeeze before they parted ways to head home.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

He'd spent a lot of time today reading the Reverend's sermons. He'd already read 20 of them, starting with the most recent and moving backwards. Bobby had another 3 months' worth printed out and tucked into his binder in anticipation of another sleepless night.

Now, as he trudged wearily through his apartment door, he realized reading more of them was the last thing he wanted to do. He methodically emptied his pockets, tossing his keys on the table, setting his gun and shield on the butcher block. Then he smeared his hand across his face.

Suddenly, he wanted to call his mother. He wanted to call Carmel Ridge and ask how she was doing. He wanted to hear her happy voice again, calling out in joyful surprise that he'd remembered her.

His shoulders slumped a little. It happened like this sometimes. He reminded himself that she was dead, and then the image of Fr. Tom standing in his mother's room just after he'd given her the last rites popped into his mind.

"God is always with us… whether we want him there or not," the priest had said.

Bobby scoffed at the memory. God was real for some people, but not for him. He had seen too much, been through too much.

Next he remembered Kathy and her family, and how fervently Molly had believed. All of them had, even Martin, the teenager. They didn't go around trying to evangelize people or anything. But it was there, underlying everything they did as a family. He'd held hands with them during their evening prayers, and he'd helped Timmy with his school homework. The boy had to write a story about a time when someone in his life—a family member or a friend—had been the instrument of God's love to him.

The boy had told a story about how he'd fallen off his bike and his brother Martin had carried him back to the house and his sister Molly had comforted him while Martin cleaned and bandaged his scrapes and cuts.

Bobby had helped him with his spelling, reminded him to put a few periods. In bed that night, he'd thought about love.

Eames, she had that kind of faith, too. She never spoke of it. But she still wore the necklace he'd given her. And he caught her sometimes, praying, with her fingers closed around the little cross.

Bobby secured his apartment for the night and shucked out of his clothes. He'd been wearing jeans with his suit coat. Ross hadn't said anything. Alex hadn't said anything. He thought for a moment what he might wear tomorrow, and then decided he really didn't care how he looked.

Bobby flopped into bed in his underwear and pulled the sheet up over his waist. His mind ticked through the seven deadly sins, and he couldn't help but measure himself as if on a scorecard.

_ Wrath: check. He carried his anger with him at all times, and he'd let it loose more times than he cared to count._

_ Greed: nah. He wouldn't mind hitting the jackpot somehow, but he certainly didn't spend his time thinking about it._

_ Sloth: Well who could blame him for being tired? He'd been through hell and back and had a job that would suck the life right out of most people._

_ Pride: This was a tough one. On the one hand, he didn't think much of himself. On the other hand, he did judge people. All the time. Like Alison Wyler. Ever since she'd made that comment about cell phones, he'd mentally filed her away. And today, her comment about paying respects to Dr. Conlon. Yes, he certainly thought he was better than some people. In fact, the sin of pride was one he'd struggled with his entire life, and his mother had let him know it, too. Yes. Check. Guilty._

_ Lust: Check. No question about that one._

_ Envy: Check. Bobby envied everyone in the world who'd always had the things he hadn't. Not in the sense of material things, but in relationships. Family. Love. Normalcy. Yes, he'd envied other people his whole life._

_ Gluttony: Come on! Yes. Okay, yes. With everything else that went wrong in his life, what was so wrong about enjoying a good meal now and then? Or a good strong whiskey? He wasn't hurting anyone else._

Bobby went back through the list. He'd found himself guilty of six out of the seven. First he smiled about it, but the smile turned sour. With a frown, he rolled over and punched his pillow.

If there was a God, and the things people believed were true, he was headed straight to hell. Because he wasn't about to change, not one thing. He didn't need to change.

* * *

He slept for three hours, and then the thoughts started swirling again. He remembered a night before his mother died, a conversation with Alex.

_"Does it help?" He'd asked her._

_ "What?"_

_ "God. Prayer."_

_ "Bobby, are you saying—"_

_ "Just answer the question."_

_ "Yeah. Sometimes. It helps."_

And as he remembered that night, he wished like hell that he could find that comfort, too.

He turned his thoughts to the only comfort he'd had through it all, Alex. With his eyes closed, he remembered being close to her. He remembered making love to her.

He couldn't, now. He knew she was willing, but Bobby just couldn't. Because that last time, when their play had gotten a little rough, he'd thought of his father. It had scared him. He hadn't hurt her or anything, but he'd had a thought, a desire, and he realized immediately how wrong it was. He'd backed off then, and he hadn't shared a bed with her since.

Bobby sat up in his bed. He reached back and gripped the headboard with all the strength he had in his hands. He would not allow himself to become like his father. And if that meant he never had sex again, it was fine with him.

* * *

Alex was lonely. She had forgotten what it was like, really. After so many years alone, she'd become numb to it. But in the last couple of years, she'd had Bobby. On and off again, but mostly he was around.

And now he'd broken it off again and it was really, really hard. Hard because it wasn't a breakup. They hadn't really ended anything. He'd just sort of drifted away. He was still nearby, but untouchable. And she kept trying to break through his defenses, but nothing seemed to be working.

Even when she touched his hand today, she got nothing in return. It hurt. It almost hurt worse to love him and know he was here, her best friend even, but keenly aware that every night would be quiet, predictable, and lonely.

Alex sighed. A deep, heavy sigh. She had to stop being so selfish. She knew he had a lot on his plate. Instead of lamenting how lonely she was, she should be figuring out what she could do for him. How she could make it better.

As she ran through all the possibilities, she settled on the only answer she had. Until he let her in, all she could do for him was pray.

Alex scoffed at herself. She'd been praying for him a lot lately. As if she was some kind of religious zealot. Hell, she hadn't even gone to Mass since last Christmas. And even then, it was more of an event than a meaningful experience.

God knew her. He knew all her flaws. With another deep breath, Alex prayed again.

After all, even with the flaws, she knew God's love.

* * *

He read another sermon over breakfast, but the lack of sleep was leaving his head feeling foggy. Bobby tucked it back inside his binder and concentrated on finishing one more cup of coffee before he headed in to the squad.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

"Morning," Alex said to him quietly. She found her cup of coffee waiting for her on her desk, as usual.

"Morning," he said, and she could see the weariness in his eyes again. He still hadn't slept.

"Any word?"

"Lawyer's conferring with him now. We can start as soon as they're through. You probably have time to finish your coffee."

"Good." She smiled and took a sip, then watched as he rubbed his eyes. "You up for this?"

"Sure. I'm okay."

Twenty minutes later, Kevin was waiting for them in interrogation C. Bobby pulled his suit coat off the back of his chair and slipped it back on. He and Eames walked together down to the observation room.

"He's our guy," she told Bobby, who nodded. "Did you notice the color of his eyes?"

"Oh, yeah."

"This should be interesting."

"It will be interesting to find out his motivation." She was the one who nodded this time. They went into the room, and Bobby took the chair directly across from Kevin. Alex pulled the other chair away from the table and brought it around to straddle the corner leg of the table. This kept her closer to Bobby, and close enough to Kevin that she could read him herself.

"Mr… Paxton," Bobby began, "isn't your legal name… Nickler? And your foster parents adopted you?"

"The Nicklers didn't deserve the grief… that I gave them," Kevin replied, "and I don't deserve their name."

"Criminal charges, drug arrests. I'd agree with you on that," Alex announced.

Bobby continued. "Your juvie probation report shows that you made a lot of bad choices," Bobby said, with a small shake and then bounce of his head.

"Until the presence of God in my life," Kevin agreed.

"My client has been clean for three years," the lawyer piped in. Bobby nodded as the man said, "Let's get on with this, detectives."

"Sunday," Bobby continued, "morning, Mr…" Bobby acted as if he couldn't decide which name he should use, "Paxton… you were scheduled to assist uhm, an 11:00 service." Both detectives paused and stared at the young man, who shrugged. Bobby looked down and referenced the papers in his binder. "Great sermon," he said. "Uhm… I've… been reading it. It's about the definition of love." He held the printed copy of the sermon out across the table so Kevin could look at it.

Kevin didn't accept the paper. "I heard it," he said. "I traded with another guy, and I did the early service instead."

"You-you needed the morning free? For what?" Goren asked.

"Service to God isn't restricted to the church. I had some old clothes, things I don't wear anymore. I-I dropped them at a homeless shelter." He ended his statement with a nod and a slight smile.

Bobby glanced over at the lawyer momentarily. He looked back at the young man and nodded.

"Bloody boot prints matching the size of boots you wear were found at the Conlon's." Alex was straight-faced and all business.

The young man shook his head and grunted. "No. I went to the… yeah, that's right, the…" he jerked in a breath, "shelter. That's right… the… shelter."

Bobby noticed the change in the man's speaking pattern right away. He knew from personal experience how anxiety or stress or lying could suddenly bring on a stammer. He continued to listen.

"I had some clothes to donate… for the… yeah, that's right, the… homeless people."

With a thoughtful stare, Bobby spoke quietly. "Uh, I believe that you went to the shelter, that's the… true part… of your lie. But you went after the killing. To get rid of the clothes and the boots. You didn't like Dr. Conlon? Did you?"

It was barely perceptible, but Kevin's face betrayed sadness. He shook his head quickly.

"Was that because you were sleeping with his wife?" Eames asked. "Or did she pay you?"

The attorney spoke now. "You don't have enough to charge Mr. Paxton with anything. You're never going to indict with a boot print that's not his."

"Defensive wounds on his neck," Alex added to the pot.

"Horsing around with his friends," the lawyer countered.

With a frown, Bobby started to gather up his binder. "Make sure that he's… available… in the morning for a line-up," he said.

"The woman you nearly hit? Coming out of the alley?" Alex explained, "She wants to take a look at your big blue eyes."

* * *

Bobby went along with her for lunch, and then proceeded to sit and stare blankly at the condiments on the table.

"The case?" She asked.

He snapped out of it long enough to make contact. He shook his head, then nodded and gave a shrug. "He's a lot like Frank," he said.

"Paxton?" she said, but she was already nodding that she understood.

"Frank was in high school when he started… using. He got caught a couple of times. They didn't send him to juvie, but Ma had to go to family court. And he had to get in a, you know, a program."

She frowned and nodded. "It didn't help."

Bobby shrugged. "He still had the same circle of friends. He still had the same… stressors… in his environment. Nothing had changed, except now he knew the lingo."

She remembered the time Frank had come to ask her to intercede for him and get Bobby's help with Donny.

_Frank talks… program, but he's not… in… program,_ Bobby had said.

She knew the sadness was taking him over again. He mourned everything about his brother. He mourned the sadness of the man's life and the tragedy of his death. And he mourned what might have been. "Frank never killed anybody," she offered as some kind of consolation.

Bobby craned his neck to look anywhere but her direction. "Yeah, I guess he never fell that far."

"Bobby," Alex said, and reached out for his hand. The contact snapped his head back in her direction and he locked eyes with her. "I don't know why you do this to yourself. Frank's not Kevin, and you're… you're not… any of them. I mean, should I feel sorry for my brother because he maybe served as an altar boy with someone like Paxton?"

"No, no, no. It's not just the similarities, Eames… it's the… hypocrisy."

"Yeah, well it bothers me too. Nowhere in my Bible did I read anything about changing the rules to suit you."

"But we all do it." He looked right through her, then.

"Okay, maybe that's true," she whispered, remembering how amazing he was in bed, his big hands giving her warmth, bringing her to heights she'd never known. "Why, Bobby? Why did you break it off?" she squeezed his hand tightly now. He wasn't going to run away from this question.

He tugged a little, trying to, but she didn't let him go. "I, uh…" he looked into her eyes again, and his face dropped into sadness. "I don't know who I am anymore, Alex." He was so quiet she barely heard him. "I just know that I… who I… can't be."

Her face screwed up and she tilted her head to study his face. All she was met with was honesty. Hard, painful honesty. "Bobby, Brady? You're not him. You're not anything like him."

"I am," he said. "More than you know. More than I c-c-c-ould let you know."

"No." She set her jaw. "I am not going to sit here and let you compare yourself to Mark Ford Brady. You have the misfortune of sharing his DNA, but you are nothing… NOTHING… like him."

They were at an impasse. She knew without a doubt the good man that Bobby was, but he couldn't see it. All he knew was the horror he felt when he had an urge, a sexual fantasy that he was ashamed of.

"You're not, Bobby." She said one more time, but it made no difference. "I'm gonna pay the bill so we can get out of here," she said. She grabbed her purse and slid out of the booth. He hung his head and sighed as she hurried over to the cashier's station to settle their bill.

* * *

They were in Ross' office now. Bobby had remained distant, even after the conversation at lunch. He sat in the chair, his binder open and notes and sermons and rap sheets spread out all over his lap. Alex stood tall, six feet away from him, briefing the captain with a tenseness in her face.

"Isn't that unusual, that the wife works with the hit man to place the husband?" she said.

Ross shook his head. He sat rocking in his office chair, considering what they said. "That's a little neat. Two people don't like each other, they don't have to hire a hit man. They can just hire the dirtiest lawyer in town. Believe me, the damage is… comparable."

Goren looked up from his notes. Ross was speaking from personal experience.

"Okay, we go with what we know," the Captain said. "The Acolyte. What would he have gotten out of this?"

Alex kept talking, and Bobby kept studying. "Kevin Paxton's at the rectory. He's young… he's not unattractive."

"So it wasn't some deep spiritual bond."

Goren finally spoke up. "Dr. Conlon doesn't seem, uh, the type who'd be oblivious to his wife… wife's affair."

"I finally got ahold of his nurse. She didn't know what Carrie was up to, but she said the doctor was a total gland. He hit on everyone."

Bobby picked up where Alex left off. "So if Carrie was hurt by his behavior, or needy…"

"It's fairly obvious who she'd turn to," Ross agreed.

"Reverend Wyler," Alex said, and they all shared knowing looks.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

As senior partner, Alex was the one who got the call. "No, no, I'll call him. Thanks." She closed her eyes hard and let go a deep sigh. This was going to hit Bobby hard. She was going to hit Bobby hard.

She checked the clock: 1:15 a.m. With great dread, she dialed Bobby.

"Goren," he answered. He sounded rough.

"You up?"

"Is there a correct answer for that?"

Alex smiled halfway. He was cracking jokes. She sighed again. "We got a… development. In the case. I'll pick you up, if you're home."

"Yeah, I'm home."

"Be there in 20."

"Okay."

* * *

She called again, and he trotted down the stairs and out the front door. Bobby slipped into the SUV beside her as easily as if it were midday. He was on a second wind.

As she pulled out into the street, he simply stared at her, waiting for her to explain.

"Kevin Paxton. Nickler. He's… he's dead, Bobby." She expected a groan, or a comment, or something. Instead, the news was met with silence. She spared a glance at him. He was chewing on his cheek, and his eyes were dark.

"How?" He finally grunted.

"Looks like an OD. We'll see for ourselves." She glanced at him again. "This is not Frank, Bobby. Kevin had his own unique set of problems. He was a killer, and he knew he was caught. He sentenced himself, that's all there is to it."

She was met with dead silence. After a couple more blocks, she tried again. "This is not your fault, Bobby."

"I know that!" he shouted, and she jumped. Both of them were very quiet after that. She pulled the car into a spot on the curb and they slowly got out. She checked Bobby with her eyes one more time. His face was like stone. He walked to the scene with purpose, and did his job with a cold, clear detachment that almost made her shiver.

Afterward, they went to his place. He was jittery about her being there.

"I'll just sleep on the couch, Bobby. I'm just too tired to drive all the way home."

"Yeah, okay. Yeah, sure." He mumbled, and grabbed a blanket out of the top of the closet. He held it between flattened hands, and stared her up and down. There was desire there, but also fear and sadness. "You… just…." Bobby set the blanket on the coffee table and took her right hand in his left. "You're not sleeping on the couch," he announced.

She looked up at him curiously.

"I-I-I won't try anything. I promise." He raised his hands in the air. "J-j-just… I need you."

"I can't promise," Alex whispered, moving closer to him, "that I won't try anything." They leaned close together until their lips almost touched.

A strange sound came from him, and he spun away from her. He walked back to the bedroom and Alex followed. He stripped down to his shorts, tossing his clothes aside to wear again in the morning. He'd only worn them for a couple of hours, after all. Then Bobby sank down onto the mattress on his side of the bed.

"You're a good man, Bobby. I wish words were enough for you to believe it." She said it firmly, then stripped out of her clothes, too. She helped herself to a shirt out of his drawer and wore it like a nightgown. Then she climbed under the covers. Bobby rolled into the sheets with her.

"I'm sorry I snapped at you," he said.

"It's okay."

"Eames, I… Alex. I told you. I really… I don't know who I am."

Something about the dark and quiet of the wee hours always made it easier for him to talk. She clutched his hand in hers and listened.

"I mean, I don't know how to… define myself. I've been so many things… son, brother, Uncle. Friend, lover, detective, partner. Caretaker. Student. Teacher." He scoffed. "Fool."

"Oh, Bobby—"

"No, I know. I guess I just don't know how to reconcile… all of that. All of the changes. All of the demands, the responsibilities. Or the lack thereof."

Alex listened to him, and what he said was starting to make sense. It wasn't just that he was sad, or angry, or depressed. Caring for his mother had been a huge part of his life, and while it was a relief to not have that burden, it surely felt strange to be free of the responsibility. She shuddered at her own thought. Declan had told Bobby he was free. As horrible as it was, she realized it was true. With his mother and Frank gone, Bobby was free. And he had no idea what to do with that.

"I miss you," Bobby said.

Alex felt her heart drop. "I love you," she said. "And it doesn't have to be like this."

His face was pained. "I know, I know…" He turned to his side and she turned her head so she could see him. "I know it's not what you wanted," he said. "I just didn't know what to do."

"Shhh," she whispered. "Just rest, Bobby. It is whatever it needs to be, right?"

They didn't kiss, but she turned against him so he was spooning her. He put his arm over her waist, and she fell asleep wrapped in his warmth.

For Bobby, her scent was like a drug. Almost immediately, he felt a sense of peace. He kept his nose tucked against the crown of her head and with every breath, a little trace of his insecurities evaporated.

He did think about Kevin Paxton. But somehow, with Alex in his arms, he wasn't blaming himself for any of it. Kevin's death was just the last in a long line of poor choices. It wasn't Bobby's fault.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Alex's alarm went off. They both jerked out of a deep sleep and she scurried out of the bed to turn it off. Bobby sighed and rubbed his face with his hands as she reset her cell phone.

"I'll meet you there," she told him gently.

He didn't reply. He had already fallen back asleep, his hands still against his eyes. Alex moved closer, and decided to give him another five minutes. She knew how elusive sleep was for him, and she didn't have the heart to wake him. She found her clothes and went into the bathroom to get ready. The makeup could wait. She had a make-up case in her locker at 1PP.

She pulled on her shoes and went to sit beside him, dropping her hand on his chest and running it over the bushy hair there. "Bobby," she said gently.

He moaned and stretched under her touch.

"Honey, you have to get up. We have to tell the Wylers about Kenny."

He blinked awake and rubbed his eyes again. Then he reached his hand out to touch her. She smiled at him, and he pushed himself up to a sitting position.

"I'll see you at the squad," she said. On an impulse, she reached forward and kissed him. Just a gentle touch to his lips, but with a lot of meaning behind it. "Bye," she whispered. He said nothing, but gave her hand a squeeze before letting her go, a tiny smile on his lips.

* * *

She had a cup of coffee waiting for him when he arrived at his desk. Alex was her usual sharp self now, dressed and made up and even her hair looked good.

"It's almost 10. Church activities have started by now."

"Let's go."

* * *

Mrs. Wyler was working with a group of teens when she and Bobby walked in. She finished reading a passage from the Bible, and then began a discussion amongst the kids.

"Try only for the praise of others, and what happens?" Mrs. Wyler asked.

"You miss the real purpose of life," a girl replied.

"Which is not the private sale at Barney's," the reverend's wife teased, "which some of us think is the second coming. And I'm not naming any names, Megan." The kids chuckled. She smiled and looked at one of her students. "Alex, you're never at a loss for words. Get a discussion going, I'll be back in 5?"

Bobby was smiling at the woman. Everything he'd just seen was being filed away in his private profile of her. She walked over to the detectives with her hand out to greet them. "Hello," she said, shaking Alex's hand, and then Bobby's.

They walked out into the empty hall, and spoke quietly under a chandelier. "Uh, there's no easy way to tell you we just got some news," Alex said. "Kevin Paxton," she continued, studying Mrs. Wyler's face as she spoke, "apparently a drug overdose."

The woman's jaw dropped, and she said "Oh my God," but she didn't seem particularly surprised. She took a few steps and sat on a bench beside the window. "He tried once before, sleeping pills, but they saved him."

Bobby stared at her, and Alex sat down beside her on the opposite end of the bench. "We know that, uh… you gave him a lot of care," Bobby said.

She shook her head as she spoke. "He was so damaged. His birth parents… father beat his mother to death. Imagine living with that?" She asked the question, but she didn't look to anyone for an answer.

Bobby knew the answer. Mark Ford Brady had nearly beaten his mother to death. He'd been sheltered from the knowledge as a child, told she'd been in a car accident, but now he knew, and he was forced to live with the truth. He looked over to Alex twice, seeking her strength, and said, "That kind of thing is hard for some people to get past."

"Why couldn't you have left him alone?!" It was a quiet accusation, her anger concealed. Wyler left them in the hall to return to her students.

Alex stood and after they watched Mrs. Wyler leave, she looked up at Bobby. _It's not your fault_, her eyes were saying.

As it turned out, the Reverend was unavailable. He'd gone out and wasn't expected back for a while. Bobby and Alex headed back in the SUV.

"She wasn't particularly heartbroken," Alex observed.

"She's all about control," Bobby said. "She has tremendous control over herself. Even her anger, as she left… y-you couldn't really hear it in her voice."

Alex nodded and checked the lane with a turn of her head before slipping the vehicle into it. "She's got a thing with you, Bobby."

"I made her angry at Conlon's wake."

"Yeah. I guess."

"She likes to control other people, too."

"She's the one really running that Church," Alex agreed.

"She has a lot to lose if… there was a scandal."

As Alex pulled into the parking structure, Bobby's phone rang. He answered it and spoke as he got out of the car. By the time Alex joined him, the call had ended. "Rodgers has the autopsy results."

With a nod, she followed him inside the building and to the basement.

Dr. Rodgers was waiting for them. "Bad combo," she said, "Methadone and alcohol? Sent him into respiratory failure and his heart stopped."

"Methadone? No one told us that Paxton was on a methadone program," Bobby said, looking to Alex for verification.

"For sure not the only thing they're keeping from us," she tossed this comment Bobby's way, looking down at Kevin's body on the table.

"Blood alcohol level of .34, and a methadone level consistent with an oral intake of 240 milligrams." Rodgers read from the report and looked up at Goren.

"Well they sometimes give take-home methadone to addicts who are doing well," Alex thought aloud.

Bobby shook his head slowly. "Suicide is… a hard choice for someone who's truly devout." His eyes fell upon Kevin's face as he spoke.

"I have… no reason to rule this as anything but suicide," Rodgers said. Both detectives nodded at her.

* * *

Bobby invited Alex to read the sermons, too. If they were going after Wyler, it would help for both of them to be fully informed. He had sifted through most of them already, so he pulled out the ones he thought were significant and set them in front of her, with the others off to one side. Alex immediately went to the pile he hadn't given her, which made Goren smile. This was why they were good partners. She was determined to fill in whatever he might have missed.

He gave her some time, and she read a few of the ones he hadn't chosen before turning to the ones he had.

"Wyler's way of making his sermons relatable—he always puts in a story about himself," she observed.

Bobby had been waiting for her to start talking about them. He hurried over and found another one to show her. "But sometimes it's what he doesn't say. This one on adultery… there's nothing personal in it, you know? In fact, he barely touches on the subject." Alex read along and looked a little shocked. Bobby spoke again. "He makes it a lesson in forgiveness. Kevin Paxton, he heard these sermons every Sunday. They could have been a big influence in his life."

"He didn't buy the Reverend's lesson in forgiveness."

"I want to go alone," Bobby told her. "If he's going to admit to an affair, it should be… easier… with…" he shrugged, "one of the guys."

Alex gave him a nod.

* * *

They showed him into a conference room. Bobby busied himself studying one of the sermons and making notes in his binder while he waited for the Reverend to appear.

"I'm sorry, I was trying to contact the other acolytes, Kevin's friends," The Reverend said as he entered the room. He went to the far end of the table and sorted through some papers.

"You had hopes for him," Bobby commented. "Hey, I've been reading your sermons. They're… fascinating, by the way."

"Oh, yeah, Trudy told me that you'd asked that the whole year be sent to your office." He sauntered over and looked over Bobby's shoulder at the papers on the table in front of him.

"You have a very methodical approach. You seem to hit every one of the seven deadly sins, but somehow… you manage to keep it fresh." Bobby looked up at him.

"Well, you fall into a rut, the congregation falls asleep," the minister said.

"Trying to think of your sermon on adultery." Bobby paused, then asked, "Do you think adultery is one of the lesser sins?"

He man was in a quiet panic. He hid it well. "A sin is a sin, Detective. Look, we're… we're, uh, dealing with loss right now. I'm not really up to a theological debate with you, if you don't mind."

"Kevin… do you know what made him despondent, suicidal?"

The man cocked his head and gestured one hand Bobby's way. "Well I think that's a question you might better ask yourself."

"I have," Bobby replied quietly, honestly. "Now I'm asking you." He met the minister's eyes with a steady stare.

"I believe we all had a hand in failing him."

"I'm even more inclined now to go with my motive, the one that you… avoid in your sermons… that he was having sex with Mrs. Conlon."

"No he wasn't." It was a quiet answer, but a very quick one. Certain. "No. You're wrong."

Bobby nodded and paused. "Well someone was," he tossed the other man's way. "Somebody was there that morning." Bobby turned his eyes away. "Doctor left for the hospital at 5 a.m. You an early riser?"

"Yes, I am, at times." Again, a quick answer, but not so quiet this time.

"I just remembered your sermon," Bobby said, with a touch of a grin. "Would you mind giving us a sample of your DNA?" he asked. "You might as well prove now that you're not the one that had sex with Mrs. Conlon."

The minister's face was incredulous. "Fine," he said. Looking down, he added, "I'll comply with your request when you have a court order." He got up and started out of the room. "Are you satisfied?" he asked.

"Yeah, yes I am. That's what I needed." Wyler walked out and gave him an aggravated wave as he left. Bobby was left frowning at the table, reviewing the interview in his mind. He thought again of the hypocrisy.

* * *

Bobby was at his computer when Alex came back from lunch. He was reading emails, and he had a smile on his face. Alex walked over, curious. There was a picture of a young girl in a jean jacket kneeling by a bunny rabbit in a pen. The picture was titled "Me and Marty hanging out." The email was titled "Hi Uncle Bobby."

"That's my niece, she's nine," he said.

"She's cute," Alex said.

He nodded and tapped a key to close the file. Time to get back to work.

"The academic background on Mrs. Wyler? I figured her for a degree in social work. Turns out she's a speech therapist."

Bobby took the paper from Alex's hands. "Master's in Speech and Language Pathology. You know, I remember… odd speech characteristics in Paxton's interview." He was thoughtful for a moment.

"Well, yeah. Certain words, he almost stammered. Let's read it over."

Bobby added the form to his binder and went rooting for the transcript of Paxton's interview.

He and Alex saw it right away. As soon as he'd gotten nervous, he had started repeating, "Yeah, that's right."

"I wonder why," Alex mused aloud.

"It's a… compensation technique." Bobby told her. "In speech therapy, with a stammer… you have to learn a way to get around it."

Usually Alex didn't care what the source of Bobby's knowledge was, but there was something about this one that seemed personal to him. "You were in speech therapy?" she asked.

He shrugged. "My fifth grade teacher, she was… best friends with the speech therapist. I never was, you know, formally, a student, but… I saw her a few times. My problem, it would come and go."

Alex nodded. It still did.

"You know, when I was under… more stress at home or something."

Now she really understood. "She helped you?"

"Yeah, I learned to pause, to slow myself down. It works for me."

She gave him a smile and a nod. "We should tell the Captain. This could link her with Paxton." Bobby nodded and went to find Ross while Alex dug a little deeper into Alison Wyler's past.

When Bobby returned with the Captain, Alex had just gotten off the phone with the Lincoln Youth Center. "Alison Wyler mentored Kevin Paxton when he was 14, and helped him get rid of a stutter."

"Alison brings him into the family," Bobby observed quietly, "the first that he's ever had, and then the affair between Reverend Wyler and Carrie Conlon threatens to tear it apart."

"Take the Reverend out of his comfort zone," spouted Ross. "See what jogs loose."


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Bobby sat across from Reverend Wyler as Alex dealt out 8-by-10 photographs of Kevin Paxton's dead body like cards in front of him.

Wyler sat with his hands folded in his lap. "Tragic, tragic… w-why are we doing this?" he asked.

Alex closed the file folder and came around to Wyler's left side, where she leaned down on her palm on the table. "We think he killed Dr. Conlon as a way of protecting you."

"Protecting me?" He asked, looking first at Eames, and then at Goren.

Bobby massaged his own fingers as he studied the man in front of him. He still had not quite determined if Wyler was a hypocrite or if he was simply a man who had made a very big mistake.

"Well, a sex scandal would ruin your ministry," Alex said, sitting down beside Wyler with one elbow on the table.

"Dr. Conlon finds out you're sleeping with his wife," Bobby chimed in.

"We've been through this before," Wyler said. "Carrie and I were not involved."

That, Bobby knew for sure was a lie. He stared at the man across from him. "Your reputation… as a man of God is worth this?"

"Kevin Paxton's life." Alex was laying it out, plain as day.

Wyler looked at Eames. He knew she knew. He knew Goren knew. Filled with sadness, he looked down and closed his eyes with dread. "Look. I honestly didn't think it was connected. Ryan Conlon's death, with… Carrie… and I. About six months ago she came to me for counseling for her marriage. And… I know how that sounds, but… at the time, I thought, we were very good for each other and we didn't hurt anybody." He was filled with shame. "That's the usual lie, isn't it? Carrie called me last night and left me a voice mail." He got out his cell phone and pushed a button. He held the open phone out to the center of the table. "You should hear it."

_"You never thanked me for your birthday present. I made the ultimate sacrifice for you, for us. And now you're pulling away from me. It's not fair. Do you realize what I did for you?"_

* * *

Carrie Conlon listened to the message, horrified. She held her hand open in the air. "What is that?!"

"It's you," Bobby said. He was sitting directly across from her in the interrogation room. Alex sat beside her.

She looked over at Eames, then back at Goren. "It's not me!"

"Stop wasting… our time," Bobby said quietly.

"That's my voice, but that's not me! I've _never_ said those things, ever!"

"There are other calls. One to the church secretary around the time of the attack."

Carrie turned to Eames, listening in shock. Then Bobby piped in, "And in the same time frame, birthday message for Reverend Wyler."

She shook her head, frantically looking from one detective to the other. "No. That's not me! Play them all," she demanded. "Play them! I want to hear them."

With a single glance, Bobby announced a break. He and Eames stood and walked together toward the door. "We'll, uh… be right back," Bobby told Conlon as he held the door for Eames.

She got up and paced the tiny room. The two detectives met their Captain in observation. "To me it sounds exactly like her," he said.

"Well, you have to… listen closely," Bobby explained. "There are subtle differences. And i-it's not her personality type."

"Like saying ultimate sacrifice," Alex pointed out. "It's too theatrical for Carrie."

"Yeah, Carrie, she uses her sexuality for leverage, not… guilt." Bobby saw that the Captain was struggling to buy into their theory. "Like saying, 'you don't appreciate me,' that's not… Carrie." He looked through the window at her pacing figure again. "I think our caller is Alison Wyler. No one else would have a motive."

"A trained speech therapist, I imagine it helps imitating voices," Ross postulated. "Spectrographic analysis could eliminate Carrie, but then how do you get Alison?"

"Huh, conveniently for her, Kevin Paxton is dead," said Alex.

"Yep." Bobby frowned a moment, then raised his head up. "And she could actually get away with it."

Ross looked down and shook his head. "Find out how she faked the message. Find out everything you can about her work as a therapist, her work with Kevin. You dig deep enough, you'll find a way to catch her." Ross looked through the window at Carrie Conlon. "Cut her loose." He spun and left the room.

Bobby turned to Alex. "Easy for him to say," she complained. As soon as she said it, she took a deep breath. Bobby's finger brushed against her hand, and she looked into his eyes.

* * *

The Youth Learning Center was a very busy place. Goren and Eames were directed to a speech and language pathologist who supervised the other SLPs and their interns.

"I can't fault Alison as an enthusiastic mentor, but her style didn't quite mesh with ours," the woman said, busily walking from the file area to her own desk.

"She was fired?" inquired Alex.

"She became too attached to the boys, and they became too attached to her."

"She only mentored boys," Bobby said.

"Well, at that age, 5 times as many boys have stutters as girls."

"At what point did her closeness with these kids become a problem?" Alex asked.

The woman sighed. "It was becoming a personality cult. They idolized her. Uhm, some of the foster parents complained that she was undermining their authority. At that age? Boys, 13…14… they're very impressionable."

"Almost like a fantasy girlfriend, you know?" Bobby explained to his partner. "More glamorous than girls their own age."

They pulled together the rest of the story, the paperwork, the dates, notes from her evaluative summaries. Then they headed back out to the car.

"So who was yours?" Alex asked.

"Huh?"

"Your fantasy girlfriend."

"Yeah, no."

Alex grinned at him and dropped into the driver's seat. Once he was strapped into the car beside her, she said, "Oh, come on, Bobby. You were speaking from experience, and you know it."

With a quiet sigh, he rolled his eyes and looked out at the sidewalk while she got the car moving. "Lynda Carter," he muttered.

"Who?"

"You know, she was on tv."

"Lynda Carter… you… oh my God, Wonder Woman?"

He shrugged. "I was 14. She was… sexy."

Alex tried very hard not to laugh aloud. She failed at wiping the grin off her face.

Bobby swiped his hand over his face, but when he snuck a look at her and saw her smile, he found himself grinning, too.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

They met in Ross's office for another update/strategy session. "Why does Alison act when she acted?" he asked, the frustration evident in his voice. He had no doubt his detectives were right about her, but he wasn't sure they could prove it. "What prompted her to solicit murder at this time?"

Bobby replied. "Well, she might have been worried about Dr. Conlon's need for resources."

Ross nodded. "Something like the Cleon Lewis scandal blowing back on the church."

"An adulterous Upper East Side minister? That's a headline," Alex said.

"Okay, say that's motive," Ross continued, "How does Alison pay Kevin for murder? Sex?"

Bobby thought a moment, and then answered. "Who knows how far she took it with Kevin?"

"So we have decent conjecture, but no evidence," Ross gave them a sarcastic smile.

That kind of thing used to rub Goren the wrong way. He tucked his head down a moment, and he smiled, too.

* * *

They had a roaring argument over lunch. Alex wanted to go old school, to scare her into a confession, but Bobby insisted that would never work.

"She's too smart for that!"

"Well then what do you suggest?!" Alex finally demanded.

He was quiet for a long time. He had been puzzling over this since they interrogated Carrie. "We… use her own trick… against her. She thinks we've fallen for it. We can… you know, let her keep thinking that. Find some loose ends with Carrie for her to tie up."

Alex nodded.

* * *

Alex went down to security and picked up Alison Wyler to escort her upstairs to Major Case.

"I'm glad you called me about his things," the woman said.

"You've been very cooperative. We appreciate it." Alex paused at her desk while Alison walked around Bobby, giving him a smile in greeting.

"Will this take long? The internment is this afternoon. I'd like him to be buried with his mementos."

"Yeah, we're almost done," Bobby said, getting up and walking past her, a touch of annoyance in his tone. "The only thing that, uh, we haven't found is evidence that Carrie Conlon solicited him to commit murder." Bobby picked up a small duffel bag and carried it back to Alison. "Here you go," he said, at the same time inviting her to sit in a chair at the end of the Goren/Eames desk clump.

"What about what she said to Dan on the phone?" Alison offered, more than willing to help them close their case.

Bobby slid back into his seat and Alex said, "Oh, well, Carrie claims she never made that call."

Just then, a uniformed officer escorted Carrie across the squad room and into an interview room. Alison's eyes got wide and she slowly sank into the chair she'd been offered.

"You have the phone message," Alison told them.

"It's not enough," Alex explained. "She never mentioned Kevin."

"We can see how she could easily manipulate… I mean just on her… just a purely physical level, I mean." Bobby waggled his hand in front of his chest for emphasis. "Sleeping with her was his dream."

With the glass windows in the interview rooms, Alison and Carrie had a clear view of each other. Bobby continued, "And I'm saying this, not in judgment, but we know that others shared that dream."

"No." Alison was very quiet. "Kevin wasn't taken with her. His ideal was someone quite different."

Alex pretended surprise. "My God, of course! He had feelings for you before he joined the church, back when you were his mentor."

"Not sexual feelings," she said. "Kevin was attracted to something more profound."

"Teenage boy?" Bobby had to laugh. "No, we heard that the, the boys that you mentored were in love with you."

"Please," she protested. "From those gossips in Children's Services?"

"The power over others," Bobby added. "You know," he said, snatching a book up off his desk, "I was looking through this. I noticed something that Kevin wrote at the end of his daily prayers. It was a plea. 'Heavenly Father, give me the strength to make the ultimate sacrifice for your ministry.'"

"Ultimate sacrifice?" Alex chimed in. "Well, there's a connection. What are the chances two people would come up with that phrase?" She got up and walked closer to Alison.

"Carrie Conlon described in her voice mail the murder as uh… ultimate sacrifice."

"So there's your proof," Alison told him, "Your link to Carrie."

"Yeah, it won't work." Alex sounded sad. "It's not Carrie on that voicemail." She looked right at Alison. "It's you."

Bobby retrieved the spectrography results from the pile of papers flowing out of his binder.

Alison laughed nervously. "That's absurd."

"You're a very good mimic," Bobby said, and her smile vanished. "This is a voicemail graph. That's Carrie. That's you. I mean, you didn't get everything right, uhm, tone pitch, everything was there. Except for the, uh, breath. Where you breathe when you speak. That can't be altered. It's connected to your nervous system. Do you wanna…?" he looked over at Alex and gestured with his pen-hand.

"This is Carrie," Alex said, and pushed the play button. They listened to her read the transcript from the voicemail message. "And this is you." They listened to the one that had been provided by Reverend Wyler.

"Catch the difference in the breath?" Bobby asked.

"20 words with the same graphic signature can make a voice print ID," Alex told her. "We can prove this was you."

"All you can prove is that it wasn't Carrie. I'm a trained speech therapist. I can read a voice print."

"You ready to bet your life on it?"

"You've gone to great lengths to hurt my ministry. You're not the first, and you will not succeed, either." She reached for her purse and tried to stand, but in unison, the detectives caught hold of her. Alex was at her elbow, and Bobby at the opposite shoulder. They pushed her gently down, back into the chair. Both of them stood over her now.

"You mean Carrie?" Alex asked.

"She distracted my husband from his purpose. She's trash."

"Your husband didn't see it that way." Only Bobby could pick up the shift in Alex's tone. She was disgusted with Alison, as she always got with every killer they caught.

"He was blinded by her. Once Dan saw her diminished and rightly accused, I knew he'd reject her."

"So Dr. Conlon paid the ultimate price."

"Ryan Conlon lived by exposing people. He could have turned our parishioners against us."

"Poor Kevin," said Bobby.

"He was collateral damage to your sense of greater good." The disgust was ringing clear in Eames' voice now.

"I cared about Kevin, I did. But his death rests on your conscience, not on mine. You'll never convict me in court."

"Your final judgment will." Bobby understood her now. She was deluded into believing what she was doing was for some greater good, serving God's purpose. "But it won't take place in court." He looked past Alex, where Reverend Wyler was now standing.

Alison got to her feet and stepped closer to her husband. "You know my sacrifice had no bounds," she tried to explain to him. Alex and Bobby stayed perched by her desk, watching them closely. These confrontations were often necessary in pulling confessions, but they could get violent.

"What I did was for us, for all that we built."

He shook his head. "Doesn't make it right. Do you hear yourself, Alison?"

"We brought the word of God to the most important people in the city. I preserved our good work. Tell me you understand that!"

"Yes. I understand. We're through. I don't know you. I don't want to know you." He very calmly walked away.

She grabbed his hand. "No, listen to me!" Her husband turned back. "We have to fight together. We love each other! We built something! Don't let them destroy it!"

Again, he shook his head. "I want it destroyed. All of it. I'll start over."

"Without me?"

"With God. If He'll forgive me." Dan Wyler turned and walked away, wiping tears from his eyes.

Alex stood and cuffed Alison. Once she was sent to holding, Bobby went to have Carrie released again. He and Eames met again at their desks. They sat facing each other, staring silently.

"Good work, Bobby. Good catch on that breathing thing."

He shifted and gave her a nod. "You too. You got her to talk… about the affair."

Alex rubbed her eyes. "This is the part where I'm supposed to remind myself that these are aberrants, not the rule out there. My sister gets on me all the time about that."

"It's nice to know they're not all hypocrites."

"Who, Wyler?"

"He seems sincere."

She nodded. "Mistakes and forgiveness. That's what it's supposed to be about, right. Only we don't like for the preacher to be the one making the mistakes."

Bobby shrugged. "He's a man. We're flawed."

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah. I'm okay."

* * *

It took a couple of hours to get the paperwork done. After another quiet conversation, they decided to part ways for the evening. Bobby was tired, and said he needed space to let down after the case.

When he walked into his apartment, he quickly emptied his pockets. Keys and binder on the table, gun on the butcher block. He had mail. He had a letter from Molly.

Upon opening it, he saw a family picture she'd sent him, and a few snapshots. He read her very formal sounding letter.

_Dear Robert,_

_ It was nice having you at our home. I hope you can visit us soon. I'm sending you some pictures to remember me by._

_ Love,_

_ Molly_

Bobby carried the letter back to the table, sat down in a chair, and went through the pictures one by one. His favorite was one of he and Molly after dinner. His arm was thrown over the back of her chair, and they were both smiling.

He smiled at the memory. It felt good to have family again. He got up, then, and searched the house until he found some paper and a pen. He scrawled out a letter.

_Dear Kathy,_

_It was very kind of you to let Molly send me the email and the picture. I received another letter from her today, with pictures of the whole family. Thank you. It means a lot to me._

_Thank you, too, for allowing me into your home for a week. I realize I wasn't the warmest of guests. I keep thinking of what you told me that night, of how when you first learned of Brady's atrocities, you wondered if other people could tell. I feel that way a lot of the time, like maybe there's something in the way I walk, or talk, and I find it very hard to overcome that. It seems I felt that way much of the time I was with your family. Not with Molly, though. Or Tim. Perhaps it was their innocence that cut through those isolating feelings. I am truly grateful._

_I hope that you continue to find your own resolution to all of this. I believe you're closer than you think. Please send my regards to Hank and the children. I've enclosed a personal letter to Molly, to return her kindness to me. I hope it's all right with you if I correspond with her._

_Thank you again. If there's ever anything I can do for you, I hope you will let me know._

_Yours,_

_Bobby_

_..._

_Dear Molly,_

_Thank you so much for the letters and pictures. I don't think I will be able to visit for a while, but I will certainly be thinking of you. You made me feel happier today._

_Affectionately,_

_Uncle Bobby_


	11. Folie a Deux

Chapter 11

Folie a Deux

Bobby wasn't expecting anyone. Really, the only possibilities were a neighbor, the Super, Lewis, or Eames. He checked the peephole. It was her. Bobby scratched his head, then his beard, then he unlocked the door and swung it open. He gestured at the room, "Come in," he said, almost a mumble.

She stepped inside, tucking the door shut with a gentle lean of her backside. "Hi, Bobby."

He looked up from the floor and she caught a gentle smile hidden away inside his thick beard. Alex turned around and latched the deadbolt, then went to his side. "I wanted to talk," she explained. "You weren't… you didn't have plans…?"

"No, no plans." As if it wasn't obvious. He was barefoot, in the pair of jeans with the hole at the corner edge of his butt-pocket. His wrinkled black tee had a tear in the seam under his armpit. "You want something? A drink?"

"Yeah." He went to the kitchen and she sank down onto his couch. Alex kicked off her shoes and curled one leg so she was turned toward the middle of the sofa, and hopefully, him.

He brought her a glass of iced tea. "I haven't made a beer run this week," he explained with a shrug.

She smiled and took a long swallow. As she wished, Bobby dropped onto the other end of the couch. He turned toward her, tucking one leg up onto the cushion, mimicking her own posture. Bobby drank from his glass and twisted to set it on the end table. Then he turned back to Alex. "What is it?" he asked, though he already knew what she wanted to talk about.

What he didn't know was how she wasn't going to pussyfoot around. Alex set her glass of tea down, scooched close enough for her foot to touch his, and said, "I want to try again."

Bobby didn't flinch, but he blinked twice and chewed on his bottom lip, which made the whiskers on his chin stick out.

"And I don't know for sure why you put the brakes on everything, except that somehow you think you're going to turn into… him."

"No, you don't know, you can't know."

"That's right, I can't. Because you're locked up so damn tight I couldn't get in with a pry bar."

"You don't want that, Alex. You don't need to know."

"Whatever it is, Bobby, it took… it took my love away from me." Her eyes were boring right into him. "I'd like to know what in hell could be that important."

"I'm… I can't be the way you want me to be."

"Which is what, exactly?"

"Kind. Tender."

"Do you think I'm living in a fairy tale or something, Bobby? Nobody's perfect all the time, I know that."

"It's more than that. It's the way I felt."

"The way you felt. Okay, how?"

"The last time," he said, and those bottom whiskers jutted out again. "I don't know, I was losing myself in it, and I…" He raked his fingers through his hair, turning his head away and closing his eyes with the memory. "I wanted…" he stopped again, and swallowed hard. "I could have hurt you."

"I can hold my own."

He met her eyes again. She was doing it right now, holding her own. "In all my life, I never felt like that, Alex. Not about any woman."

"What makes you think you would have hurt me?"

"I wanted you so bad, I almost couldn't stop myself. I would have done anything."

"And yet you did. Stop. You stopped the whole world, Bobby."

"Yeah, well what happened to 'it is what it needs to be?'"

"I have needs, too." She stared him down, and then she shook her head. "And I've been thinking, maybe that's what's been wrong all this time. I've spent all this time thinking of you, and doing for you, and tiptoing around you, and maybe I should have spent, I don't know, at least a few minutes on me. Maybe that's selfish, but I don't think so."

"I don't know if I can give you what you need."

"You did before."

"But I could never… maintain…"

Alex reached forward and grabbed his bare foot with her hand. "You can. And you won't hurt me. You would never hurt me. I've been with you long enough to know."

He spoke through gritted teeth, and she slowly massaged the arch of his foot with her thumb. "But that feeling."

"For normal people, that would be a good feeling. Flattering."

He scoffed. "Normal. There, you see?"

Alex grinned and let go of his foot to crawl over him. She stopped when his whiskers tickled the skin around her mouth. "Neither one of us is normal, Bobby. Time to give that up."

And she closed her mouth over his, warm and soft, her tongue lifting his. When she felt his arms cross over her back, she knew she'd succeeded.

He broke the kiss when his foot fell asleep. He used his hands to set her upright and stretched his leg out, massaging it to get rid of the pins and needles. Then just as quickly he turned back to her. He led this time, one hand cupping the back of her head as the other slid slowly up and over her breast. As he came up for a gulp of air, he breathed, "I need you, Alex. I love you."

His lips moved away from her mouth and trailed down her neck, the beard tickling and scraping, making her heart race. "I'll give you what you need," he whispered. "Tell me what you need."

All at once, she reached out and clutched his t-shirt with both hands, pinching some of his chest hair in the process. His head snapped up and she took him in a deep, hard kiss. "You," was her reply. "I," her lips were desperate against his, "need," her tongue dove deep and stroked along the side of his, "you." Alex wriggled as they pawed at each other, and she managed to get her leg against the swell in his pants.

"Oh, Alex…" He was finding it hard to form the words in his mouth. He was in a delicious fog, and he had no desire to escape it.

In minutes, the pants were gone and he was crawling over her half-clad body on the couch. Alex gasped in pleasure as his fingers probed inside her, priming her for something much bigger.

She was buzzing with anticipation when his fingers slipped away. Bobby bent over her and delivered a blazing kiss before slowly, tenderly making them one.

She made a noise, a squeak of sorts, and he froze over her, waiting for her to give him a signal. Alex's hands roamed and she clutched at his tensed forearms, pulling against his hands. She twisted her hips, and he began to move.

* * *

The couch wasn't the most comfortable place to be tangled with another body. Bobby, all six-foot-four of him, was the first to recover. He sat up slowly, dropping a few reassuring kisses as he pulled away. He stood over her, tracing two fingers along the skin of her belly, up through the twisted fabric of her shirt. The last few buttons were open, leaving an arrow of skin exposed, as well as the gentle curve just under one nipple. He ran his fingers there, as well, and a smile appeared on her relaxed face.

He dropped down to his knees beside the couch. He caressed her gently, watching her as she came down from the heights of her orgasm.

"I know who you are," she whispered.

It shouldn't have provoked anxiety, but it did. Bobby stopped what he was doing and held his breath.

"Just trust in me when you're not sure," Alex said, and leaned up on one elbow. She reached for him, and he obliged her with a kiss.

"I'll try," he promised.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Alex stood in his kitchen, a cup of coffee between her hands, looking at the pictures he'd arranged on the side of his refrigerator.

Bobby paused as he walked in, saw what she was looking at, and gave her a kiss on the cheek before walking to the coffee pot to help himself. "My sister and her family," he explained.

"I know. What are their names?"

"Kathy is my sister, her husband Hank. The oldest boy is Martin. Molly named her rabbit after him. And then Molly and Tim."

Alex's eyes lingered on the one of Bobby and Molly. "You really connected with her. Your niece."

"She's a sweet girl," he said. "She sent me a letter, and those pictures."

"You're not planning to move to Michigan, are you?" Alex teased, throwing him a look.

Bobby smiled and shook his head before taking a drink of his coffee.

Alex looked back at the pictures, this time studying Bobby's sister. There was something in her smile, a resemblance. "Do you think I look like my sister?" She asked Bobby suddenly.

He shrugged. "A little. Same nose. Same, you know, eyes."

"Everybody always told me I looked just like my Dad. I hated that. Teenage girls do not want to hear they look like a man."

He gave her a grin. "You've got nothing to worry about. You're one of a kind," he said, coming forward. Bobby scanned her from toe to head with his eyes. "And all woman."

Alex smiled up at him, and they kissed.

* * *

The weekend was busy with necessary errands. They took care of business separately and agreed to meet back at his place for the night. Bobby was happy when she arrived, the result of a call from his sister. He'd spoken with all five of them, and it had cheered him considerably.

It was the same feeling Alex got when she spent the weekend with her family. To be surrounded by a whirlwind of kids and toys and homework and food and conversation, it had healing powers for her. It was a big dose of "normal" to counteract the evil and hate she encountered on a case.

They watched a movie together and then cuddled in bed. Bobby was snoring before she had the chance to make a move on him. With a grin, Alex held his arms more tightly around her and drifted to sleep, too.

The call out was directly from the Captain. At midnight. Major case, indeed. An 18-month old baby had been kidnapped from a nice hotel. It was already leaked to the news. She got the info and ended the call. Bobby was already sitting up in bed, awakened by the tone of her voice.

Instead of telling him, she turned on the television while they got dressed. Alex was highly upset by this. The news reported that the parents had left the baby to sleep in the room while they went downstairs to have dinner with friends.

Bobby handed her leather jacket to her and they headed out, pausing only for him to lock the apartment door. He could see how tense she was, and honestly, he was feeling it too. It was so much harder when the victims were kids.

"There were several rooms robbed, as well. The news didn't report that yet," she told him in a clipped voice.

"They just… taking money and then decide to take a kid?"

"It doesn't sound right to me, either, but that's what we've got. Ross wants me to coordinate things at the scene. You'll take the grunt work?"

He nodded.

* * *

Alex was making her way back to the crime scene, barking orders and updates to the team along the way. "Initial canvas from 59th to 69th and from East End to Fifth. Security videos?"

"Running them down as we speak," reported another officer.

"I notified TARU," Alex told Bobby as she walked back into the room the baby was taken from. "They've opened a kidnapping case, level one mobilization." Goren was studying the carpet, squatting, and reaching for something with the tweezers in his hand. As he got hold of the object, he raised it up to study it.

"Six rooms were hit in all. Lots of cash, jewelry. What?" She finally asked.

"Glass fragment."

"I'm gonna go talk to the parents."

"They're in their room, next door," he said quietly.

Bobby studied the glass closely. So far, there had been no report of anything glass broken in any of the rooms in the hotel. If the glass was significant, it came from outside the hotel, likely on someone's shoe. And if he was lucky, it came in on the foot of the perp.

* * *

"I came up to check on her at 8:15," the father was saying.

"I think it was closer to 8:30," another woman, a friend, corrected him.

"What difference does it make?!" he said. "How does something like this happen?"

_Maybe because you left your baby alone… idiot!_ Alex thought. She looked wide-eyed at the three people in front of her, but managed to keep her mouth shut.

"You're going to find her, right?" The mother asked, distraught. "You're gonna bring her back safe?"

Alex cocked her head and nodded. "Right now, I have to ask you to try to remember everything you can."

"Well we were downstairs," the father spoke, "we were all having dinner."

"Before that, did you receive any calls?"

"Just Celia," the mother replied.

"Visitors?" The woman shook her head. "And you're sure you locked up when you left."

"Of course I'm sure!" The man said. "I-I knew we shouldn't have left her alone."

"We'll need a picture of Emma," Alex said, and Bobby walked in quietly, his hands stuffed in his pockets. When the father saw him, he straightened up, and stood taller.

Emma's mother quickly passed over a picture of the little girl, but in it she looked only 8 months old. "Uh, anything more recent?" Alex asked.

"This is from last week," said the father, and he showed them his cell phone. It was a picture of the parents flanking the little girl in front of a yellow slide.

"Where was that taken?" Bobby asked.

"That's Kent, Connecticut, it's our back yard."

"I thought it was safe," the mother told them. "This is a good hotel. I put the sign on the door, I checked the thermostat."

"Thermostat?" Bobby asked.

"Well, we wanted to make sure she was warm," explained the baby's father.

"Sure," Bobby said, filing this information away. "Emma was ill?" he asked.

The mother was shocked that Goren could know that. Her husband answered the question. "Uh, she may have been coming down with a cold, yeah." He sighed and turned to pace away from them. "Oh, God."

"We know this is difficult for you, but if it is a kidnapping, someone may try to contact you, so it's best if you stay here. At least until we know more." Alex finished, and joined Bobby to walk out the door. She whispered to him before they even left the room, "Leave their kid alone so they can have a quiet dinner? People just don't think." She threw a disgusted look back at the people in the room as she turned to move in the hall.

* * *

"Lucy Valdez, she's been a maid here for three years," the manager was saying, "never a problem. All our staff are bonded."

"Her master was used on all the rooms that were hit," Alex reported.

"And 20 others, that's her job."

It was Bobby's turn. "And what time was the key card used?"

"Uh, punch up 519, please?" he told the woman at the desk beside him. "Room 519, that's the Haslums. She opened the door at 7:22. The next time the door was opened was 8:36. The Haslum's key."

"Valdez, you said," Bobby confirmed, taking the printout from the man.

"That's right, Lucy."

Bobby pointed at something on the printout and showed it to Eames.

"Looks like she clocked out 7:01."

"We'll need a home address."

* * *

"Thanks, Lucy, just wait here," Bobby told her. He left the woman in interrogation and walked out to meet Ross, who had been observing. "The maid's key card was used twice that night, she claims she only used it once."

"Boyfriend?" the Captain asked.

"Alibied until 11 p.m."

"You're right about the glass fragments," Detective Gregg reported. "Found them in all six rooms that were hit. Could have been tracked in by the burglar's shoes. Forensics is running gas chromatography as per your request."

Bobby stopped at his desk. He gave Gregg a nod. "Thanks, man." He continued to update Ross as he sorted through the paperwork on his desk. "So, we got this key card from the maid's locker. Now, we tested it and it doesn't fit in any of the doors."

"Someone swapped cards."

"Yeah. It was last used by Marvin Cutler from Summit, New Jersey, when he checked into the hotel… two weeks ago."

"And we know this how?"

"'Cause, it's on here," Bobby answered, waving the key card in the air. "Name, address, credit card information. Don't leave your key card in your room when you check out." Bobby started walking again, and Ross trailed behind him. "Unfortunately, Mr. Cutler reported his wallet stolen two hours before someone used his credit card to check into the Barton Hotel." He sat down next to Eames, who had been waiting for them.

"What do you have?" Ross asked her.

She clicked a remote. "Lucy wasn't lying about the guy in the hat." They watched the surveillance video from the elevator. Lucy was in the elevator when a man in a hat joined her.

"She claims he talked her up in the elevator," Bobby narrated. They watched the man scoot closer to the maid, and brush his hand against hers.

"And watch this," Alex said. The man on the tape bent over to pick something up. "Look at his other hand." The man's left hand was in the maid's pocket and she didn't even realize it. Alex paused the video and pointed at the screen. "That's where she says she kept her key. Now, follow his left hand," she told them, and pushed play again. The man handed her whatever he'd found on the floor and quickly tucked his left hand under his right, hiding her key card.

"He swaps cards," Bobby said.

"Did he go back upstairs?" Ross asked.

"Unfortunately, we never actually get to see his face," replied Alex. "None of the hotel employees can identify him off this tape."

"The old, 'I left my phone in my room' line."

They watch the man on the video push a button after Lucy exited. He stepped back and adjusted the strap of a bag on his shoulder.

"That duffel bag is big enough to hold an 18 month old child," Alex exclaimed.

"I'll dig up what I can on the Haslums…check in with you later," Ross frowned at them.

They replayed the video again as their captain walked away. Bobby held out his hand and waggled his fingers. Alex handed him the remote. He rewound again and paused the video. "So, this on the hat here?" he asked her.

"It's the Miami flame."

* * *

An hour later, they were still in the AV room, quietly mulling over what they had. Ross came in with a few notes scratched on a paper. "Okay, the victimology is pretty non-descript except for this: He has an aunt, Emily Huntford? Old money… emphasis on money. A mere 75 mil." He handed over his note to Goren. "She lives at 948 Fifth. That's our nest." Bobby handed the address to Eames.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

They arrived with a full team, and she welcomed them into her home. She took the news hard, and seemed quite worried, but had been more than willing to answer their questions.

A young man around 40 arrived and hurried up the stairs, calling "Emily?" he saw her and came to her side. "Are you all right?"

"George is my secretary," she explained to the detectives. "You can speak freely."

"Okay," Bobby said. "We have reason to believe it was a kidnapping for a ransom."

"Because they know who I am?" Emily asked.

Both detectives nodded gravely. Alex took a breath and said, "Was there anyone you might have told your nephew was coming in to town? Someone who would have known where he was staying?"

George spoke. "I made Andre's reservation. Uhm, using her credit card, of course." He looked over at Emily as he explained. "Emily, you should be in bed," George told her.

"Oh, stop it, George!"

"Well, if I don't worry about you, who will?"

"Just go home. Your-your boyfriend's in from London. I-I shouldn't have called you."

"Stewart can take care of himself. I'll make coffee."

The old woman walked over to the occasional table, which was loaded with pictures of the baby. "Emma," she said. "She's the only child in our family." Bobby gave her a soft smile. "She's named after me, you know?"

They stayed to complete the interview with Emily, and left the team to finish installing technology to record and monitor any ransom calls that might come through. Bobby got a call, and he told Eames quietly, "Chromotography is done."

* * *

"The glass fragments are totally ordinary. Could be from a beer bottle, a window, a vase." The technician clicked to a new screen on her computer, which had a display of the test results.

"What's that?" Goren asked.

"That's not ordinary," she explained. Alex reached for her coffee. "On most of the fragments, we detected traces of styrene and isobutelyne, chemicals found in the manufacture of Styrofoam." The detectives shared a glance. "And the flags indicate all factories that manufacture Styrofoam," she said, clicking to a new screen again. A map appeared of the tri-state area, with dots for every factory."

"Great, where do we start?" Alex asked. There were at least 20 dots on the screen.

"Well, the… burglar used credit cards which were stolen from Marvin Cutler, who lives in Summit." He pointed to the screen. "Let's go to Newark."

* * *

It was 10 a.m. by the time they met the foreman and he let them into the warehouse. Bobby asked him about the Miami flame, if any of the workers followed that team.

"In Jersey, you root for Miami, it's kind of like rooting for a rock, but… you know, Markie, he bangs his own drum." They followed him onto the factory floor. A slab of Styrofoam was leaning against the wall. As they walked by, Bobby smoothed his hand over the seam and then lifted it to look at the little pellets that clung to his skin.

"Yo, Markie!" The foreman called out, putting Bobby on edge. "Got a couple Miami fans here for you."

The guy looked up and then bolted. Goren and Eames chased after him. "Stop, police!" Alex cried.

Bobby pulled out his big black radio. "Suspect is on the move!" he shouted, and ran after his partner.

The guy bolted out a loading dock and climbed into a maroon van. He peeled out, dropping boxes out of the open back of the van. Goren and Eames watched from the cement dock as the patrol cars cut off the van. He threw it in reverse, spun the van around, and sped off in another direction. He drove hard, hit a dumpster, and was blocked by a big truck and two patrol cars. Goren and Eames jogged closer, guns in hand. The uniform closest jumped out of his car and drew his weapon, too.

"Put your hands where we can see them!" Alex ordered, drawing down on him.

Markie folded his hands on the crown of his head and sat still in the driver's seat.

"Stay there!" the uniform shouted.

Goren was at Eames' left shoulder. He had his weapon at the ready, but kept it low. The others had it under control. They watched as the uniforms brought him out of the car, frisked him, and cuffed him. Then Alex gave instructions for him to be transported to 1PP for booking.

She was still breathing hard as they walked back to the car. Goren was silent. Their adrenaline was up, and they still had a job to do. He'd ask her if she was okay, but she'd lie and say yes. It was what they did. Without a word, they got into the SUV and Alex drove them back to the city.

By the time they got there, they were calm again. In the elevator, coming up from the parking structure, Alex yawned against the crook of her elbow.

"You should get a bite or something," Bobby suggested.

Alex nodded. "The coffee's wearing off," she said. He walked with her to the cafeteria, and they got sandwiches and drinks. They gulped them down and hurried back to the squad room. Time wasn't on their side. The baby had already been missing for over 12 hours.

* * *

"What do you want from me? There is no kid."

"We have you on the security tape from the hotel, Mr. Carston." Alex frowned at him.

"No, you've got a guy with a Miami Flame hat."

Bobby stood behind him, dividing his attention between the man in the room and the paper he held perched atop the folder in his hands. "We know that you… were… busted 12 years ago for a break-in at-at a jewelry store on 46th."

"Charges dropped," Carston said.

"Also an antiques store on Park Avenue South, that's two years later, and—"

"And graduated Stuyvesant High where I was the punter on the freshman football team."

"Someone at the Barton Hotel is going to recognize you," Alex told him. She was tired, and she didn't want to listen to his garbage.

"Yeah… I've got one of those faces, don't I?" He said with a smirk. "Look, I know how this works."

"Really." Bobby looked over at her and rolled his eyes. He could see she was pissed, and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it. He turned away, listening to her talk. "Well, then you know that kidnapping is a class A violent felony. We're talking life."

Bobby turned back.

"I didn't take a baby," Carston said. "I've got kids of my own, for Pete sakes."

Goren stepped forward and settled into the chair next to him. "Uh, I believe you…it's just that right now, th-that's not good enough. You need to prove it."

"We know you were in the hotel room."

He scoffed. "Right," he said, nodding his head with that ever-present smirk.

"We're here because we can prove you were there." Alex stepped forward and sat down across from him. They both stared at him, watching for any sign that they were breaking him. He simply smiled. "Okay." He shook his head. "That doesn't make me a kidnapper."

"Did you see the baby?" Alex asked.

"I'm not stupid. I do not mess with kids."

"Still not good enough," Bobby warned.

"Okay," Carston said quietly. He confessed to the burglary, and told them where he kept his loot.

* * *

They roamed around in Carston's stash, along with a full team, including a service dog. "Lots of jewelry, antiques… there's no sign that a kid's been here," Bobby said. "You know this… kidnapping is very uncharacteristic for a… pro like Carston… but maybe he found a partner who wouldn't mind the risk."

"Well maybe the burglary was just a decoy for the kidnapping," Alex tossed out. Bobby nodded. "Could be anything. None of it looks good for Emma," she said firmly. Alex strode out ahead of him, the anger in her every step.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

_ We have your little girl and we're willing to hurt her. You can have her back for two million dollars. You have 24 hours._

_ Is she all right?! I want to talk to her!_

_ Get the money._

_ Well it'll take a few days, uh, it's all tied up in trust accounts._

_ Tomorrow. Get the damn money or she's dead._

Bobby hung back to listen to the recording five or six more times, then spoke to Calista Haslum, while Alex wandered the house with Emily and Andre. "Before we do anything else," Alex said, "It's important that we get proof Emma is alive."

"$2 million is meaningless to me. I won't take the chance they'll hurt her."

Andre spoke next. "What kind of proof?"

"Talking to her would be good," Alex answered.

"I'll be at the bank as soon as it opens," Emily said.

"Emily, you should be in bed," George admonished her. She allowed him to escort her back up the stairs.

"Hopefully, we'll have better luck when they call next time," Bobby was saying as Alex and Andre walked into the study.

Calista shook her head. "Emily will pay, and things will go back to normal. She loves Emma like she was her own."

Bobby bounced a little in his seat and gave her a sincere nod. He turned to Eames as he spoke again. "So there's just one more…question, Mrs. Haslum, and then we'll leave you, okay. It-Does the name Mark Carston mean anything…"

"I'm sorry, detective. My wife isn't well." Andre stood behind her, his hands folded across his chest.

Bobby shifted his gaze from Andre to Calista, only moving his eyes.

"Calista, that's the thief from the hotel." Andre sat down on the arm of the chair beside his wife. "How could he place the call if he was still in jail?"

Bobby turned his head to the man, then looked away. "Well, when, uhm, we spoke to the man, he said '_we_ have Emma.' So we were… thinking that maybe Carston has a partner."

"Well," Andre shrugged, "Neither of us has heard of him before tonight."

Bobby and Alex talked as they walked down the stairs. "He was very quick to keep her from talking to us," Bobby said.

"You think they actually know Carston?" she asked.

"I think that… a burglary and a kidnap, happening same place, same time, is a huge coincidence."

"The Haslums actually kidnapped their own kid… to milk the aunt."

Bobby nodded. That was his newest theory. "Maybe they're working with Carston… Maybe they used his crime as an… opportunity."

They stared at each other a moment, and then Alex shook her head slowly. "Either way, if it's true, the money trail should lead back to them."

They made good time back to 1PP and looked deeper into Andre Haslum and his family. Alex worked on the computer while Bobby read from some books.

"Well, I don't think they're going to make any money on Andre's poetry," he announced.

"New England Trust, their money market is $4,321. In checking, $2,697. No brokerage accounts that I can find."

Bobby had lowered the book to his lap and was listening carefully. "Any debt?" he asked.

"Not even a mortgage," she said, surprised. "They rent in Connecticut for $750 a month. They filed a joint return a year ago, no taxes due."

Bobby got up and almost staggered to the case board. He stared at the picture of the Haslums and Emma in front of the slide. "They both worked?" he asked.

"Just Andre. He taught at Hillis College."

"What's that?" Bobby asked, surprised he had never heard of it.

"Up in Yonkers," she said, throwing her partner a look.

* * *

Ross had told them to get some sleep, but the clock was still ticking for Emma. Alex drove them to Yonkers. Even in the car, Bobby couldn't settle down enough to sleep. Alex didn't say anything about it. At least he'd shut his eyes and tried.

They met up with the Dean at the Administration building, bright and early at 8 a.m. Bobby held the door for a running young lady to catch it as he and Eames followed the Dean out of the building.

"Look, we're not listed in the top 100 American Colleges, okay? If you listed the top 500, we still wouldn't make it. Believe me, Andre let us know about it, too."

"So he didn't like it here," Alex noted. She walked side by side with the Dean, and Bobby hovered over them, two steps back on the stairs.

"What's not to like? Two classes a week, lots of freshman women?" She reached the ground level and turned to Alex. "There were rumors, okay?"

"He was already married to Calista back then, wasn't he?" Eames asked.

"Sure was." The woman shook her head. "She was a piece of work, too. She'd park that beat-up Chevy in front of the English Department and sit there all day."

"With the baby?" Bobby asked.

"Baby, bottles, diapers, you name it. Andre's last semester, last summer, it really got out of hand. He'd come out after class, she'd cause a scene. If she couldn't find him, she'd search all the motels in the area. What the hell? He called himself a poet. Crazy women are part of the job description."

"Called himself a poet?" Bobby asked.

"He published a poem in our quarterly literary journal? Turns out he didn't write it. Robert Herrick did."

"Is that why you fired him?" Bobby asked.

"No. Don't get me wrong, plagiarism is a capital offense, even at Hillis. Only Andre was one step ahead of us. He quit before we ever caught him on it. One day he just stopped showing up. No call, no letter, no forwarding address." She looked around. "Excuse me," she said, after remembering someplace important she had to be.

Bobby took his place at Eames' side. "Well, paying jobs for bad poets are few and far between," he snarked, and his phone rang.

"And the guy just quits for no reason," Alex said as Bobby fished his cell out of his pocket and punched the button to answer.

"Yeah," he told her with a nod, and then put the phone to his ear. "Goren. Astor Place, yeah, we're on our way."

Alex stepped quickly. She knew it must mean the ransom call had come in. He filled her in after they were in the SUV. "Astor Place. 9:30. No cops."

She raised an eyebrow at him.

Bobby chewed on his bottom lip. He was going to have to sit this one out. If the baby was in danger, they had to be very careful who was out in the open. His size and his sex made him a very real risk. He looked too tough, too much like a cop.

He knew that, but he was having trouble bringing himself to say it aloud. He glanced over at Alex, his partner, his lover, and he frowned. Then he picked up the phone to call the Captain.

"I've got Turner and Watts, and two teams from TARU at our disposal."

Bobby took a deep breath. "Eames will go," he said, and she nodded. "I can't," Bobby said.

"I'll put you at the helm," Captain Ross said firmly. "Check in with the tech crew in the brown 'Hernan and Sons Electricians' van. You make good time, you can hear the call yourself before you get in the heat of it."

"We're halfway now," Bobby announced. He said a terse goodbye and ended the call. Then he spent a few minutes frowning out the window before he suddenly reached over and took Alex's hand.

He didn't say a word about it, but she knew why he was worried.

"I'll be fine," she tried to reassure him.

He nodded, still looking out the window. "I'll have your back," he said quietly.

Alex squeezed his hand, too.

* * *

They pulled up at 9:05, and after a quick glance around, climbed into the back of the old van. It was packed full of electronic gear, undercover mobile headquarters.

"Detectives," Tommy Shirburn said, shaking their hands and climbing out of the seat at the controls. He handed off a pair of headphones for each of them, and they listened to the call.

_9:30 a.m. The trash can on the north corner of Astor Place. If I see any cops, I will hurt the girl and nobody will have a very Happy Christmas._

There was a commotion while Bobby got what he could from Shirburn and discussed the strategy with Eames. Finally, they prepared the money. Tommy dropped a GPS tracking device into the center of a bundle of hundred dollar bills and passed the bag to Goren.

"GPS is working," Shirburn said, while Alex checked that her mic was hidden well at her wrist.

Bobby passed the bag of money to his partner, and their eyes met for one meaningful moment. "All set," he told her.

She took the bag and stepped out of the back of the van. Alex started down the sidewalk, past the subway entrance, towards the trash can.

Bobby, headphones on, watched her on the video they were capturing from the cameras atop the van. They'd also managed one camera inside a local shop in the short time they'd had to prepare since the call came in. The computer monitor displayed a tiny red dot moving on the map of the area, marking the path of the loaded bag.

Eames picked the bag up high and set it inside the trash can. She'd already walked past Watts reading the paper on a public bench, and now she saw Turner pacing with her phone out as if she was expecting a text. Alex gave no indication that she knew the woman. She just turned and walked past, keeping her eye on the can while trying to lose herself in the bustle of people on the sidewalk.

A vagrant with a grocery cart full of stuff walked quickly past her. He looked around and reached into the trash can.

"Heads up," Alex called into the microphone at her sleeve.

"All right, take it easy," Bobby said into the radio. "We're gonna need him to lead us to the kid." He watched the video screen carefully as he spoke.

The vagrant looked, shook his head, and dragged his cart away.

"False alarm," came Alex's voice over the air.

Bobby shook his head in disappointment and got back on his radio. "Ah, okay… stand down."

The cops on the street resumed their vigil. Alex spotted a man arriving in a yellow cab. He had a large bag over his shoulder that looked to be empty. The man walked straight to the can and checked the bag.

"That's him," Alex announced as he pulled the bag out of the trash. Turner started moving toward him. The man checked his surroundings as he hurried away, not even pausing to put the money in his duffel. Eames and Turner walked briskly behind him, trying to keep enough distance so as not to look suspicious. Watts tagged along from his end of the sidewalk, too.

Eames was closest. The kidnapper headed for the subway entrance. "The subway," Eames said into the mic.

"GPS won't work down there," Tommy said.

"All right, keep the northeast entrance, northwest entrance covered, all other officers down to the Astor Place Platform, now." Bobby tucked the radio under his chin, then pressed his knuckle against his lips and stared at the GPS monitor. He felt a chill, and broke into a cold sweat. He watched the red dot beep a few more times as it traveled down the steps, and it was replaced by a red rectangle. _Signal lost._

"Uh! We lost him," Shirburn cried.

"Keep a visual," Bobby commanded, and stuck his hand back against his mouth. Try as he might, he couldn't keep that feeling, that awful feeling he'd had when Jo Gage abducted Eames out of his gut. He listened hard, and he watched the useless screens, and he prayed.

He prayed for her safety.

"He's boarding the 6 Northbound. I'm going with him."

"All officers in range, board that train!" Bobby barked into the radio. He knew once the train pulled out, he would lose all contact with Eames.

Shirburn ditched his headphones and crawled past the hulking detective and into the driver's seat. He started the engine and squealed into traffic.

Bobby was already calling for more backup, to cover every stop of the Northbound train. He yanked the headphones down around his neck. "Can I get a photo off this video?" He asked.

Tommy called out instructions, and Bobby managed to pull off a picture of their perp. Following Shirburn's instructions, he sent out an APB with the photo from the back of the moving vehicle. Then he put the headphones back on, not that they were picking up anything.

Bobby left one speaker against his ear and hugged the radio close to the other ear. At last, he heard the chatter of the officers above ground. The man had emerged in Union Square with a very full blue bag.

"Okay, uh, surveille him and we'll pick him up later. All officers, report in."

It was another few minutes before he finally heard her voice. "Eames," was all she said, but he swayed from the relief.

Bobby spouted off an address and the team met there to regroup. When Alex walked up, Bobby gave her an honest smile before tucking his head down to look at his shoes. Captain Ross took care of the warrant in record time. They milled around, taking turns monitoring the building until SWAT arrived.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

They counted down with silent hand motions and SWAT broke the door in. All the officers followed, weapons drawn.

"Don't move! Get on your knees, now!"

"Where's the baby!" Alex shouted as she ran in behind the team. She recognized George right away.

"We don't have her, I swear!" George cried.

The SWAT team was checking the apartment. "Clear!" somone shouted.

"I knew it was going to go wrong," he told his partner.

Bobby reached forward and snatched the wad of cash out of George's hand. All of the worry of the last two hours turned instantly into anger. He put his hands on his hips and looked at the man from London. "You said 'Happy Christmas' on the phone. That's British, thank you. We say 'Merry Christmas' here."

"What did you tell them?" He asked George.

"Nothing."

"Place is clean," the SWAT man said. "No kid."

Bobby sighed heavily. Alex glared at the two men on their knees in front of her. She turned to her partner, and he to her.

* * *

"They don't have the kid," Bobby said. "They never did."

"They were just… cashing in on a bad situation." Alex added.

Ross frowned. "I'm with you on that, but we won't know for sure until we interrogate them." He looked carefully from one detective to the other. "How are you holding up."

In unison, they both said, "Fine."

Ross looked them both over again. "All right. Let's do this."

* * *

"It's not what you think." Bobby stared at George and besides a tiny nod, he didn't move a muscle. He didn't change his judgmental expression. "Stop that, please?!" George sighed heavily. "We didn't… hurt… anybody!" He sighed again. "I just wanted what was mine, okay? I've run her life for five years. 'Georgie do this, do that… I'm lonely, Georgie, don't go.' I went to Tufts, for crying out loud. A poet?" He laughed sarcastically. "Oh, give me a break. He's… he's gonna get everything." He gave Goren a painful smile and scoffed.

Bobby sat quietly a moment and then said, "He's her family."

"All he does is send photos of the little girl. I take care of Emily! I care about her!"

Bobby listened, and he thought, and he pushed his chair back with a screech. Without a word, he got up and walked out the door.

George called out after him, "And… All I wanted was for her to care about me!"

Bobby walked around the corner to the observation room. There stood Ross, Eames, and Emily Huntford. The old woman spoke. "He… didn't do anything to Emma," she said. "May I talk to him?"

Ross nodded and Bobby stood aside to let her pass. The three watched the exchange between George and his employer.

George saw her and bent his head in shame. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"You were all I had left, George. I know all Andre wants is my money."

"I'm not like that."

"No? You betrayed me. I was gonna take care of you."

"No. I was there, remember? I was there to witness your will."

"But you never saw my trust documents. You're a fool, George. All you would have had to do was wait for another few months." She shook her head and then turned away. At the door, she turned back to him. "I'll get you a lawyer. That's all I can do for you now." With that, she walked out.

They followed their Captain back through the squad room and into his office. "It's almost 48 hours and those guys are a dead end!" he said.

"The Haslums' door was opened at 7:22. That was… Carston." Bobby's weariness was slowing his speech. "Okay, and then… again, at 8:36. That was Andre." Bobby's hands were in his pockets. He looked over at Eames, wondering if she was thinking the same thing he was. "Now… Carston's a pro, he would have closed the door behind him."

Alex picked up where he left off. "So no one else was in the room."

"So what are we missing?" Demanded Ross. "We've been all over that hotel. Security videos, elevator shafts, furnace, laundry, the windows don't open… as far as I can tell, there's no way anyone got the kid out of that hotel!"

Bobby looked at Eames once more. She was staring at Ross wearily. He leaned in closer to her and spoke quietly. "Maybe… they never brought the kid into the hotel," he suggested. Mostly, he said it to Eames, but at the end of his thought, he glanced over at the Captain.

"So where the hell is she?" Ross asked them both.

They didn't have an answer for him.

* * *

Bobby held the little booklet of poems by Andre Haslum in his hands. He read the cover, and then flipped it over to read about the author on the back.

Alex was speaking. "So you didn't see Emma in the city."

"Emma's dead, isn't she?" Celia asked, and Bobby turned to her quickly.

"Why would you say that?" asked Alex.

"Because… it's been two days. The woman stood at the island in her kitchen, her hands splayed on the granite countertop in front of her. "Calista's so fragile. That child was… everything. She grabbed a platter of fruit and carried it across the room. "Her world… I don't know how she's gonna deal with this." She set the fruit down and picked some newspaper and walked back in Alex's direction. "You know she was hospitalized once… before they were married."

"Emotional problems?" Eames asked, folding her fingers at her waist.

Celia dropped the papers into the recycle bin. "There was a bad spell last summer, Andre had to leave his job."

"Teaching at Hillis College."

"Sorry this… book is… it's signed by the… poet," Bobby announced, holding the little paperback in the air. "It's… probably gonna be worth something someday."

"He hasn't published since they moved up to the middle of nowhere," Celia said.

Bobby nodded with a little smile. "You saw them up in Kent?"

"No, it's so far, and… my work…"

Footsteps on the hardwood floor behind Bobby announced the approach of Andre Haslum. Bobby turned around, glanced at him, then looked down at the book in his hands. He set it back on the shelf.

"Hopefully she'll sleep now," Andre said. He drew in a long breath as he went to the kitchen with a glass in his hand. "I honestly don't know if she can go through it again."

"Again?" Alex inquired.

Andre set down the glass. He turned and folded his arms, leaning against the counter. "Well, first you said it was a robbery, then a kidnapping, a ransom payoff… and still no Emma."

"Your aunt, she-she never had children, right?" Bobby asked.

"No, she didn't."

"Think of all that money, you know?" he said to Alex.

Alex sighed and shook her head, playing along.

Andre laughed quietly. "I've read 'The Iliad' in the original Attic Greek, detective. If you want to trip me up, you'll have to be a little more subtle than that."

Bobby gave him a look, then turned his head to Eames briefly. "It's actually Homeric Greek, but…"

"I should know!"

Celia stepped in. "Andre. They're not accusing you of anything."

"Yes they are," he said to his friend. He stared at Celia a moment before turning back to Goren. "And yes, I take her money. She's happy to give it to me. It's called patronage. It's respected and it's as old as the arts." Bobby nodded quietly while Andre stepped away.

Celia turned to the detectives. She could tell how upset Andre was. She said to Goren, "If that's all… maybe you should go, now?"

Goren glanced at Alex, and they walked out together.

"Patronage," Eames said. "I'd say staging a kidnapping is more like extortion." She was angry again, and her stride was as long as his.

"Well, maybe Andre's aunt invited them here so she could see Emma before she died," Bobby suggested. It was something his mother would have done.

"But if Andre knew his aunt was failing, there would be no point."

"Well, saying he didn't know." He took two steps and continued. "Maybe she threatened to cut him out of her will." Again, he took two steps before resuming. "Yeah, let's say they s-staged a dinner with Celia for an hour while they… act out the kidnapping." He shook his head. "The burglary's… a coincidence."

"So… it's not about how they got Emma out of the hotel, because they never brought her to New York."

Bobby listened, and thought it over again, and he nodded. He walked in the direction of their car.

* * *

Bobby donned his gloves and studied the photographs of baby Emma very carefully. The first was an 8-by-10 of her, the same one Calista had originally shown them. The second was the family photo in front of the yellow slide. They were in Connecticut now, searching the Haslum's house.

"Emma certainly lived the life," Eames noted, walking through the nursery which was jam packed with toys.

"How old do you think Emma is in this picture?" Bobby asked. "Five, six months?"

He held it up straight and she studied it. "Give or take," Alex answered.

He set the frame back on the bookshelf where he'd found it and stepped away. Alex's eyes drifted across the other rooms, and then she turned back toward the nursery. "They have more toys than FAO Schwarz, but they don't baby-proof the house?" She pointed out an uncovered electrical outlet in the wall, nestled between two stuffed animals."

"Hey, what's wrong with this picture here?" Bobby called out. He was standing at the back window, overlooking the back yard, the family picture still in his hand. Alex walked over and joined him, and he held the picture so she could see it, too.

"No swings." The backyard had a small picnic table, a lot of dirt, and a lamp post. Bobby walked outside and started peering over the privacy fences.

"There's one in the neighbor's yard," he said. "Yellow slide." He hopped down off the log he was standing on and followed Alex back through the house. They went next door and rang the bell.

After introductions, the man gladly let them in.

"I get sad just thinking about her," he said when they asked him about the missing child.

"What about Andre?" asked Eames.

"How do you spell pompous?" The man was trying to clean up a days' worth of kitchen mess, scraping dishes and loading the dishwasher.

"Did Emma play in your backyard?"

"I assume she did." He was replacing something in the fridge, now. "A lot of kids do," he said.

"But… you don't know for sure?"

Bobby contented himself to listen and stare out the back window at the swing set. It was obviously the one from the Haslum's photograph.

"Melanie and I split up, what… about a year ago. Rather than move Annie, that's our two year old, she stays here and we alternate. It's the new math," he said.

Bobby nodded, then turned to his partner and scratched his head. "Do you know, uh, what color hair Emma has?"

The neighbor stared at Goren.

"No? You don't. Do you know what she called Calista? Uh, was it Mom or Momma? Mommy? You don't."

"Okay, maybe I'm not as neighborly as I should be. I work, and when I'm actually permitted to live in my own house, I spend all my time with Annie."

"You've never even seen Emma, have you?" Alex asked.

"I must have," he said sincerely. He let go a breath and continued. "In any case, I'm sure Annie has."

Bobby glanced over at his partner. "Could we meet Annie?"

He turned and walked toward the dining room. "Annie?" he called out. "Annie? Come here, honey."

The girl ran happily to her father, who squatted to catch her with his arms outstretched. He groaned as he picked her up, hugging her with a smile. She had red curly hair, piercing blue eyes, and her father's nose. She was obviously this man's child, but she was the same child as in the Haslum's photo.

The detectives were surprised initially, but they offered the toddler smiles.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

Bobby thumbed through his copy of the DSM IV and read up on something called Folie a Deux.

_Shared Psychotic Disorder_

_The essential features of Shared Psychotic Disorder (Folie a Deux) is a delusion that develops in an individual who is involved in a close relationship with another person (sometimes termed __the "inducer" __or "the primary case") who already has a Psychotic Disorder with prominent delusions (Criteria A). _

_Usually the primary case in Shared Psychotic Disorder is dominant in the relationship __and __gradually imposes __the delusional system on the more passive and initially healthy__second person. Individuals who come to share delusional beliefs are __often related by blood __or marriage and have lived together for a long time, sometimes in relative isolation. __If the relationship with the primary case is interrupted, the delusional beliefs of the other individual usually diminish or disappear. __Although most commonly seen in relationships__of only two people, Shared Psychotic Disorder can occur in larger number of individuals,__especially in __family situations in which the parent is the primary case and the children, sometimes to varying degrees, adopt the parent's delusional beliefs__._

_Associated Features and Disorders_

_Aside from the delusional beliefs, behavior is usually not otherwise odd or unusual __in Shared Psychotic Disorder. Impairment is often less severe in individuals with Shared Psychotic Disorder than in the primary case._

_Prevalence_

_Little systematic information about the prevalence of Shared Psychotic Disorder is available. This disorder is rare in clinical settings, although __it has been argued that some cases go unrecognized__._

_Without intervention, __the course is usually chronic__, because this disorder most commonly occurs in relationships that are long-standing and resistant to change. __With separation from__the primary case, the individual's delusional beliefs disappear__, sometimes quickly and_

_sometimes quite slowly._

_Diagnostic Criteria_

_A delusion develops in an individual in the context of a close relationship with another person or persons, who have an already established delusion. _

_The delusion is similar in content to that of the person who already has an established delusion._

_The disturbance is not better accounted for by another psychotic disorder (eg, schizophrenia) or a mood disorder with psychotic features and is not due to the direct physiological effects of a substance (eg, drug abuse, medication) or a general medical condition._

A blue sticky note already marked the page. Goren closed the book, just as his email notification bar popped up. He saw Kathy's name, "Molly," and "ER," and he was compelled to open it.

"What's wrong?" Alex asked. She might be tired, but she could still read him like a book.

"Nothing, it's fine." He tapped the email closed. "Molly's rabbit got out and she cut herself on the fence trying to get it back in the pen. Tetanus shot, a couple of stitches. She's okay."

Alex nodded at him. "Emily Huntford is here," she said quietly.

He looked up and saw her standing in the squad room, and one of the uniforms led her to an interview room to wait.

"You sure you want to do this?" Alex asked him, thinking of how it felt to see Declan inform Bobby that he'd had his brother killed to "set him free." This was almost the same thing, only Bobby would be the one delivering the message. And to a sweet old lady who only had a few months to live.

Bobby tapped the book in front of him, the DSM. He nodded. Then he rubbed his eyes roughly and got to his feet. Alex gave him a quiet pat on the small of his back and followed him into the interview room.

They greeted her kindly and sat down at the table with her. "We're very sorry to have to tell you this." Bobby began, his voice low and soft. "We've talked to every pediatrician in and around Kent, Connecticut…" Bobby paused to take in a shaky breath, "And none of them have ever treated Emma. Now… we found prescriptions in your nephew's house which were written over a year ago by a doctor in Yonkers, and they've never been refilled."

The old woman's face scrunched with pain as she tried not to cry. She whispered a plea. "Please, stop."

Alex glanced at Bobby, and knew she had to give him a minute. "Something happened to Emma, Mrs. Huntford." Alex shook her head. "And it wasn't at the Barton Hotel." She felt like crying, too. Alex closed her hand and put her knuckles against her mouth.

They watched the old woman struggle not to cry. "Do you have any idea what it's like to have everything taken away?" She asked them, and Bobby's head dropped to stare at his hands. Alex shot a glance his way, but he didn't meet her eyes.

Emily angrily pushed herself to her feet, and Bobby stood quickly, too. He caught her when she swayed from the grief. Once she seemed firmly on her feet, he let her go and stepped aside.

"My husband had a stroke at his desk 10 years ago. I'll be gone in a matter of months." She paused, delivering her words to Eames, since Goren was behind her, out of her sight. "What good did all his money do me, hmmm?" The old woman turned to leave.

Alex turned her weary eyes to her partner, and watched him open the door for Mrs. Huntford. He watched the old woman make her way out of the squad room, resting his hand on the edge of the door. Alex sighed, and looked up at him again. "Bobby," she said quietly.

"N-n-no." He shook his head, looked at his shoes, and walked out to his desk with that weary plod she'd seen so many times in the last year.

* * *

Ross had come in an hour ago and was in his office catching up on the squad's progress. He opened his door and called them both in.

"There's no kid?!" He shouted at them.

"The photos were of the neighbor's little girl," Alex explained. "No one's actually seen Emma for six months."

"So they… stage a kidnapping to cover up whatever was done to that child."

"Yes," Bobby answered. "I mean, mainly for the benefit of Andre's aunt. You see, Emma is the golden goose. It's Andre's only chance of inheriting the money."

"And the mother went along?"

"Yeah, my guess is Calista had no choice." They were walking with the Captain now, following him through the squad room. Bobby continued, "She's emotionally fragile, and I think Andre fed on that." Bobby sat down on the top of his desk and glanced over at Alex, who picked up where he left off.

"We found baby powder that was never opened, Pampers that were never used, toys never played with. She believed Emma was alive."

"Out of guilt or remorse, of longing. I think Calista… needs the illusion. It's a… variation of folie a deux."

"And you're going to prove that…how?" Ross asked.

Bobby and Alex shared a look, and Bobby spoke again. "Destroy the illusion."

"You think they're just going to tell you what happened?"

Bobby shrugged.

"You've got plenty of evidence to prove the baby isn't around. See if you can't find some to explain where she went. Then go 'destroy the illusion.'"

Both detectives sighed and slipped back into their desk chairs. Bobby opened his binder and went back through all of his notes.

"Whatever it was, it happened last summer," Alex said.

"The Dean," Bobby told her, "She said Calista brought the kid to the college every day, and they sat in the car."

"Oh, God," Alex breathed. "A baby in a hot car…" She made eye contact with him. "But wouldn't they have gone to the ER?"

He tilted his head, almost shaking it. "Calista, she's mentally… unstable. If the baby was dead…"

"But why the hell would he-?"

"Folie a deux," Bobby said.

Alex paled and gripped the edge of the desk with her hands. "Where would they have… buried her? The backyard? In Yonkers somewhere? Emily's estate?"

His eyes were glazed over, and he rocked in place. "Could be any of them."

Alex sighed heavily and covered her mouth with her hand. Shaking her head, she got up and walked quickly away, down the hall, past the elevators, and to the stairs. By the time she got inside, she was gulping back a sob.

Bobby followed her. He took her hand and led her half a flight up and into dark corner sheltered by an old metal storage cabinet someone had decided to leave there. He put his arms around her, and she cried.

Alex cried for Emma. The poor child, born to parents who wouldn't, couldn't, didn't take care of her. Maybe it was the exhaustion, but she couldn't stop her tears.

Bobby didn't say a word. There was nothing to say that would make this any better. He held her and he mourned the child and he thanked God he hadn't lost Alex in the work they'd done on this case.

At last, she forced herself away from him. "Somebody could see," she whispered, and wiped her eyes.

He nodded and brushed her hair back away from her puffy eyes.

He looked around, up and down the stairs. For a moment, he considered kissing her, but Bobby knew all too well they were at 1PP. To do that would be a mistake.

She squeezed his hand in hers and went back downstairs. Bobby waited until he heard the heavy door latch before he walked slowly down, too.

* * *

They needed to find out what happened last summer, where Andre had taken Calista. If they could track that down, they would have a good idea where to look for the baby's body.

Alex wasn't at her desk when he returned to his. He wondered for a moment if maybe she decided to try and sleep, but he knew better. Unless she was ordered to, Alex wouldn't sleep until it was over.

"They rented the house after," He announced when she returned. She had taken a shower in the locker room. Her face was newly made up, even though her hair was still wet. "Uhm, about two weeks after he disappeared from Hillis."

"Explains why they didn't have any toys in the yard." She sat down in her seat.

"I've got a call in to Emily."

"You think they went to her? Without the baby?"

"Maybe. Maybe only him. He is her nephew, after all."

* * *

Three hours later, they finally had enough to confront the Haslums. Ross got to work requesting a warrant to find the child's body while Goren and Eames went out to Celia's house to see them.

Alex gave Bobby a long look and then turned to ring the buzzer. Celia opened the door. "What's going on?" she asked.

As they walked in, Bobby grabbed Andre's book of poetry off the shelf. "Is there news?" Andre asked.

"We found Emma," Eames said, and she saw the fear shoot through him.

"What?"

She shook her head and looked at Calista. "I'm sorry."

The mother sank into the kitchen chair, and gasped for air as the tears came.

"The sleep… no pain shall wake," Bobby said quietly.

Andre, horrified, gaped at Goren. "Our child is dead and you're quoting my work?"

"Oh, it's in your book but it's… not your work. In fact, it's… Christina Rossetti's."

"How dare you speak to him like that?" Calista said angrily. "You don't know how we've suffered. Our child is gone!"

Bobby nodded, his head down. He raised his eyes to meet Calista's. "I know she is. Last summer." He stared at her, and she shook her head in denial while her husband continued to gape. "When things went wrong, isn't that right, Mrs. Haslum?"

She stared a Goren a moment and then turned to her husband, her eyes begging him to tell her what to say. He only swayed and looked back. He didn't speak a word.

"Whenever there's a question about Emma, you look to him," Alex commented. Bobby walked past his partner, the little book of poetry still in his hands. "And you always have an answer," Eames said.

Andre Haslum paced to the counter, turning his back to them a moment.

"Your life with Andre, th-the poems that… he wrote for you," Bobby told Calista, "and the love that you share with him… Did that end after you had Emma?"

"You… my daughter meant everything to me! You can't fault me for that!"

"I-I'm not faulting you. I… I mean, you gave her so much. Was there anything left for him?"

"Stop this!" Andre's angry shout echoed in the sterile kitchen. "He knows nothing about us."

"All right, see?" Bobby pointed at him with the book in his hand. "That… fury there. Tha-tha-that's what happens when you start to feel… ignored?" Goren stepped closer and cocked his head. "Is that what drives you… after other women?"

Andre glared.

"The poems he wrote were for them, not for you."

Calista looked so sad. She opened her mouth to make an excuse for her husband, but none came.

"Is that how it all went wrong last summer?"

She shook her head, and Bobby sat down in the chair so he could look her in the eye.

"I need you to tell me about Emma's last day. Did you go… looking… in the wrong motel?" Bobby paused, but she didn't speak. "Maybe if you knew who he was with…how-how could you, there were so many women available to him. And not just students. Let me read you something," Bobby said, and picked up the little paperback. "It says… 'what music have I sipped from your siren eyes.' Andre, your husband, inscribed this book, gave it to Celia."

Goren and Mrs. Haslum looked over at the family friend, who was now looking away in shame.

"Were you with him that day?" Bobby asked Celia.

She nodded, and whispered, "I'm so sorry."

Calista gaped at the woman she'd thought was her friend. She shook her head, and Andre turned his back to them all. She looked back at Goren, her expression almost begging him to continue.

"It was afternoon… mid-summer in Yonkers. It was a… terribly hot day." He waited, but she didn't speak, so he started again. "And—"

"Yeah," Calista breathed. "I burned my feet on the pavement. I left my shoes at the house, I was so anxious to find him. I went everywhere, I knocked on doors at all the motels."

"You left Emma in the car?" Alex asked. She didn't cry about it now. She was all business.

"Yeah, but I left the air conditioning on," Calista admitted.

Bobby nodded. "You checked it like you checked the thermostat in the hotel room?"

"Yeah, I would have never left her in the car without the air conditioning!" Hysteria was creeping into her voice. "How could I know that the engine was going to die?"

"Calista, shut your mouth," Andre admonished.

"Her skin was so hot to the touch it was white. She didn't move. I took her home and put her in her room and… pulled down the shade so it was cool and dark. And when Andre came home he looked at her, he said I did the right thing… he said everything would be okay if we didn't tell anyone… He said Emma was alive and all I had to do was believe him." She stopped, stared at Goren, and then looked at her husband. "But Emma is dead." She began to cry. "He said… I killed her." Bobby gave her a nod, then got up to go cuff Andre while Alex did the same to Calista.

Two units were waiting for them downstairs. They turned the Haslums over to the uniformed officers and watched the patrol cars drive away.

Alex and Bobby shared a silent look. She turned and walked slowly toward the SUV and he followed.

Climbing inside, Alex said, "I think I could sleep for a week."

"You want me to drive?" He offered, but she gave him a smirk and a shake of her head.

"My place is close," he offered.

She gave him a weary smile. "Thanks," she said.

* * *

A/N Thank you all for reading and especially for your reviews! The passage in this chapter about Folie a Deux is from an internet excerpt from the DSM IV-TR. It may not be completely accurate, but the internet's all I've got and it was the best I could find. If any of you have watched enough times to figure out when our two heroes got any sleep or just how quickly Bobby's beard grows, PM me and let me know! Ha ha!


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

They didn't say a whole lot. There was still work to do on the Haslum case, but it could wait until they'd had one good night's sleep. They made their way up to Bobby's apartment and he locked them safely inside.

Alex ran her hand along his arm and gave him a gentle smile. Then she headed for the bedroom. Bobby rubbed his face with his hands. He was worn out, but there was too much on his mind for him to go straight to bed.

He emptied his pockets, stripped out of his shirt, and poured himself a glass of whiskey. Bobby grabbed his laptop, and sat down at the table.

He had another email from Kathy.

_Dear Bobby,_

_I'm sorry to bother you again. I'm just terribly upset today. My mother and her new husband came over tonight, after all the commotion with Molly. Mom sent me for a walk with her husband and said she would look after the kids._

_ His name is David. He's all right, I've known him a long time. This is a pretty small town. His Dad and my grandpa were friends and I feel like I'm babbling. David told me more about Grandpa and Brady._

_ I guess Brady knew about me, after all. He showed up in Lansing one time, and found my Grandad at work there. David said his Dad had nothing but ugly things to say about Mark Ford Brady. He said he knew about me, but wasn't interested unless somehow a relationship with me would get him back in my mother's pants._

_ I am just so full of hate right now. And I don't want to be that way. Why me, Bobby? And why you? I never asked for any of this. I only wished for a Daddy that cared about me, that would hold me if I cried and protect me if I was scared and encourage me if I was down. Like Hank is with our kids. That's the kind of Dad I wish I had._

_ Oh, I'd better go. Molly is complaining that she can't fasten her buttons with her hand bandaged up._

_ I hope you're okay, and I hope you don't mind my rambling on and on. I just don't think I have anyone else I can talk to about him._

_ Have a good night, little brother._

_Kathy_

Bobby rubbed his eyes again and started typing a response to her.

_Dear Kathy,_

_ I'm sorry I couldn't get back with you sooner. I was in the middle of a- _he paused to rake his fingers through his thick curls—_tough case. Eames and I, we've been at it for almost 3 days with hardly any sleep. Solved it today, though._

_ I'm sorry to hear about Molly. Please tell her I hope she feels better soon._

_ As for your news, I'm sorry for that, too. You know, I've been thinking some more, and I think Brady knew I was his son all along. My brother Frank, we had a conversation about him once. Frank said "Uncle Mark" used to bring me toys and trinkets. Me. Not Frank. He must have known all along._

_ I think your stepfather is right. I think Brady only cared as long as it was getting him something he wanted._

_ I'd better get to bed. Don't hesitate to "ramble on and on" to me. I really don't mind. Who knows? Maybe we'll help each other._

_ Take care, Kathy._

_ Bobby_

He sent the email, polished off the whiskey, and went to bed. Bobby happily folded himself over Alex's curves and closed his eyes. He breathed her in, and found himself thinking again about the events of the last few days, the chase for Carston, and the sting with the ransom money.

If he ever lost Alex, he would truly be alone. Bobby dropped a kiss into the hair on the back of her head and tried very hard to still himself so he could sleep.

* * *

Alex jerked awake, feeling the warm pressure from the weight of his hand against her thigh. Even waking from a bad dream, it felt good to know she was with Bobby.

Suddenly something he said popped into her mind, and she couldn't shake it loose. _Out of guilt, or remorse, or longing. I think Calista needs the illusion._

Alex thought about that for a long time. She knew in the past two years, Bobby had felt that way, too. He'd felt all those things, first for his mother, and then for Frank. And when Frank was killed, he almost gave in to the illusion. That's why he had been so adamant that Nicole wasn't dead, that it wasn't her heart in that box. He needed the illusion.

She thought about him now, and she realized just how far he'd come. Bobby was quieter than he used to be. He wasn't as quick to speak. But he was firmly planted in reality. He might have his flaws, but he was taking on life with eyes wide open. Alex turned, and he reflexively pulled his hand away, tucking it against the other one to rest in front of his chest.

Eames stretched and planted a kiss on the back of his hand. She fell asleep again, her heart full of love.

* * *

He awoke at 5 a.m. with a headache that threatened to split him in two. He stumbled out to the kitchen, took some medicine, and downed a glass of water. Then he went back to bed.

Ross would have had someone interrogate them about the location of the baby's body by now. Hopefully, little Emma could be put to a proper rest.

Goren sighed, trying to find that relaxed place he'd been in only a few minutes ago. He stared at Alex for a while and noticed how his twisted shirt had her breasts straining to get free.

He grinned to himself. Although he wanted to, he wouldn't help her with that. Alex was asleep, and that's what she needed more than anything right now.

Bobby pressed his hands against his eyes and soon he was asleep, too.

* * *

After the showers and the tooth brushing, they met in Bobby's kitchen. He was on the computer already, but he got up to pour her a cup of coffee.

"Thanks," she said.

Bobby kissed her and gave her a sweet smile.

"You shaved," she said, drawing her hand over his whiskers. His beard was now rough and thin, not gone completely but close to his face.

Bobby nodded and gave her a smile. "You want me to cook?" he asked.

"No, I'll just have a bagel or something."

Alex settled into a kitchen chair across from him and sipped her coffee. It was almost noon, now, and they would have to head to work soon.

"I, uh… I got an email from Kathy."

"Is Molly okay?" Alex asked.

"Yeah, sure. She wanted to talk to me about Brady."

Alex nodded. She wasn't sure what they had to talk about, but she was sure it was important.

"You know, I still can't remember him when I was a kid. Frank was shocked about that, but I just… I don't remember."

"You were pretty little, weren't you?"

"Four. I remember other things when I was 4, like the big dog that slobbered all over at the neighbor's house. I remember eating ice cream in the kitchen with the little pink flowers in the wallpaper."

"Maybe you don't remember him because he really wasn't important."

Bobby grinned and looked sideways at her. "And the slobbery dog was?"

"To a 4-year-old boy? I'd bet he was your whole world."

Bobby broke into a full smile, now. "Ma used to hate it when I would run over there to pet him."

"Probably ruined your clothes."

He chuckled. "She probably ran late a lot, making me go back and change."

They enjoyed the lightness of the moment, and then Alex asked, "Is your sister okay?"

"Yeah, you know, she's just… figuring it out." He turned the laptop toward her. "You can read 'em if you want to."

"No, that's okay."

"She called me 'Little Brother.' Frank used to do that."

Alex gave him a smile and a nod. She massaged her neck with one hand and took a deep drink from her coffee.

"You sore? My lumpy bed—"

"No, I think it was running after that money. I'm still tensed up."

Bobby closed the laptop and got out of his seat. He circled the table and stopped behind her, where he gently moved her hand away. He started to massage her neck and shoulders.

Alex groaned in pleasure, and he smiled. He found himself thinking again about the worry he'd felt for her while sitting in the van. He shouldn't have worried. She was more than capable. She'd done her job well, and he was proud of her.

He bent down and whispered a promise in her ear, and Alex turned to him, catching him in a deep kiss.

* * *

One of the junior detectives filled them in on the Haslums. Andre had finally broken and revealed the location of his daughter's burial. She'd been found that morning, and her remains were being transported to Rodgers. Both parents were booked and awaiting hearing, and both had appointments for psychological evaluation.

About halfway through the paperwork, Bobby got a call. "Okay, uh… thank you." He ended the call and glanced over at Eames. "Emma's remains… I-I'll go," he offered, knowing how hard the knowledge of the baby's death had hit Eames yesterday.

Alex paused, but gave him a nod and with his binder tucked under his arm, he headed downstairs alone.

Rodgers met him in the hall and led him back to the morgue.

"The sheriff in South Salem found the remains about 10 yards into the woods on the property of an Emily Huntford."

"That's the little girl's great-aunt," Bobby said.

There was a small cardboard box on the table. Rodgers handed over an evidence bag containing a baby blanket. Bobby looked at it and set it down. "Appears they wrapped her in this, and they found this with the remains." She reached into the box and withdrew another bag containing a piece of paper. "Looks like a poem."

Bobby glanced at it, and he could feel his rage resurfacing. Someone pushed in an autopsy table with the tiny white body bag zipped shut at one end. He paused to stare at it, and the anger within him swelled.

He read the poem. "It's not death who holds thee, it's love." He frowned, glanced at Rodgers, then turned to look at the tiny body bag again. "Yeah." He turned back to the Medical Examiner. "This is stolen—it's Elizabeth Barrett Browning. He couldn't even be original for his own daughter." Bobby turned back and watched as the baby's body was tucked into one of the compartments for safe keeping.

With a frown, he took a copy of Rodger's report and headed back upstairs, an angry swagger in his step.

He started for his desk, but then thought better of it and turned around again. Eames happened to catch the movement in her peripheral vision. She turned her head and watched him heading back for the elevators. She recognized the emotion in the way he walked. Alex got up and went after him quickly.

She saw the elevator was going up and so she went to the stairwell and jogged up the stairs. Usually, when he did this, if he went up, he went to the roof. She opened the door and found him there, his binder abandoned on an old concrete planter somebody kept trying to grow flowers in every year.

The wind up here was too harsh, and no matter how beautiful they started out, they always looked like hell come summer.

He was leaning against the safety wall, looking out over the city. She didn't say anything, but she made sure he could hear her steps as she approached. Alex settled into place beside him, mimicking his posture and looking out at the cars and people bustling about beneath them.

"I, uh… I got a little…"

"I know."

"I don't understand."

She reached out and put her hand atop his.

"If I had a daughter, I would—"

"I know."

"He didn't even-!"

"Shhh." She turned to him now. "Stop trying to make it make sense. It's not going to make sense."

There was a hurt look in his eyes, but he met her gaze for a moment before looking out over the city again.

"I thought of my sister."

Alex closed her eyes, caressed his hand, and nodded. They stood together, silently sharing a moment of deep empathy.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

"You're sure?" Alex asked. Her sister's family had invited her over for dinner and extended the invitation to Bobby, as well.

"Yeah, I'll just… I've got things to do." He was in the parking structure with her, standing by her car. "I'll uhm… meet you at your place, later?"

Her expression softened. "I'd like that," she told him.

He nodded and stood by while she got into the car. He patted the roof of the vehicle, saying, "Have a good time."

"Bye, Bobby."

He put his hands in his pockets and watched her pull out of the parking spot and drive away. Bobby walked back to the street exit and down the sidewalk. He caught the subway home.

* * *

The photograph was of three ugly stitches of black thread on the meaty part of her palm, in between her first and second fingers. He frowned at first, studying it, and then broke into a crooked smile. Bobby pulled the laptop closer and hit the "reply" button.

_Dear Molly,_

_It looks good. I'm sure you'll be back to chasing rabbits and wrestling with Timmy in no time. Make sure you keep it clean. You don't want it to get infected._

_How is school? Did you pass that math test? Ask your brother if he knows how to spell "because" yet. Tell him I'm gonna quiz him the next time I see him._

_Things are fine here. I'm happy to be home again. I like the city. There's always someplace to go, something to do. And if I don't feel like going out, I always have my books to read._

_I'll talk to you soon,_

_Love,_

_Uncle Bobby_

He sent the email and sat back, thinking about his family. He thought again about Brady and how he only used his children to manipulate their mothers. He remembered what Alex told him about the Haslums and he had the thought that maybe Kathy needed to hear it, too.

_Dear Kathy,_

_ I'm not sure you want to hear these things, but I've been thinking a lot about you and me and Brady and, well it seems like every case we work gives me something new to think about._

_ This case we just closed, it involved the death of a child. She was only a baby, really. She was a year old when she died. Her death came of neglect, and then her parents covered it up._

_ I got pretty upset. As awful as it was, I can sympathize with, really, all of the circumstances that led up to her tragic death. But there were some things to do with how her father buried her, and I made a correlation between him and Brady. And the baby and you._

_ I'm sorry. This is probably not something you want to hear about. It's just that, Eames, she came to me and she told me I had to stop trying to make it make sense._

_ I thought maybe you needed to hear that too._

_ Our father was an evil man. I met him, I know. And for people like us, who know what it is to care about others, to feel love, his kind of evil will never make sense._

_ She told me something else, too. It's a long story, came from something she went through a while back, but she reminded me that the path to healing lies outside myself._

_ We didn't have the childhood we wished for, but we have something now. You have a beautiful family, Kathy, and I'm fortunate to have been welcomed by you. If we focus on the people that matter in our lives, well then something good can come from the bad._

_ Look who's rambling now._

_ Molly's hand looks like it's healing up well. She told me Martin was asking a girl to the prom. I'm sure you're in for a lot of excitement around that. _

_ Thank you, Kathy, for accepting me into your family._

_ With love,_

_ Bobby _

* * *

Alex wasn't home yet, so Bobby poured himself a glass of wine and kicked off his shoes. He crossed his long legs at the ankles and turned on her TV. With the wine in one hand, and a book in the other, and the action on the screen in front of him, he was content.

He was halfway through his second glass when she got home. She was bright and cheerful, and seeing her made him feel cheerful, too.

"Hi," she said as she dropped her things on the table by the closet. By the time Alex hung up her coat, Bobby was behind her, wrapping his arms around her. She leaned back into his embrace and smiled as he kissed her cheek.

"Hi," he replied. "How was it?" Bobby let her go and she walked over to the couch and sat down, moving his book to the coffee table.

"Good. Fun. My sister's thinking about putting in new tile in the kitchen."

Bobby nabbed his wine glass in his fingers and held it up. "You want one?"

She nodded, and her eyes drifted to the television screen. "What _is_ this?" she asked.

"Oh? Uh…" He filled two wine glasses and answered her question. "It's a thing about the, uh… Hatfields and the McCoys."

"Seriously? You have my house all to yourself and you decide to read," she glanced down at his book, 'The Dancing Wu Li Masters' while listening to a documentary about hillbillies."

With a grin, Bobby handed her the glass of wine. "Uh, re-read… It's a… I like to multitask."

He sat down beside her and waited for her to taste the wine before he pressed his lips to hers. In the midst of a series of tiny wet kisses, Alex started to grin. She pulled back from him and her eyes ran along his rugged whiskers, thicker now that it was the end of the day. She turned her head and gulped down half of her wine. Then she set the glass on the coffee table. "What's that Wu Li book about, anyway?"

"Uh, uh… quantum physics."

"Oh." She was nodding, and she still had a smile. "Of course." Her smile grew and their next kiss was rich and deep. Bobby sat up straighter to keep from spilling his wine, which was still in his hand.

He didn't want the kissing to stop. His mouth pursued hers, and she saw the liquid splash at the rim of the glass. "You'd better put that down," she whispered, drawing away from him.

Bobby groaned and did it as quickly as possible. In seconds he was back, both hands free now to hold her cheeks while he searched her mouth with his.

"Bobby," she said.

He kissed her twice more before he spoke. "What?"

"Thank you."

"Huh?"

"I wish I could have kissed you then."

"Wh-when?"

"In the stairs. I love you, Bobby."

His chocolate eyes met her light brown ones. "I love you, too, Alex."

She reached her hands around his neck and hugged him, resting her head against his shoulder. Bobby smoothed his hands over her back. When she turned her head and her lips touched the skin of his neck, he closed his eyes as a thrill went through him.

Alex's lips moved to his jaw, and she toyed with the lobe of his ear. "I want you," he breathed in her ear. "I want to make love to you."

Alex's sigh was heavy in his ear, and his hands slid down her back and right under her ass. Bobby lifted her and moved closer, until she was almost in his lap.

She let go of him and moved to straddle him. He ran his hands over her breasts and pushed up whenever she ground against him. They flushed with desire, and he wrapped his arms around her and stood up. She cried out in surprise. Bobby carried her to the bedroom.


	19. Identity Crisis

Chapter 19

It was 11 p.m. when they arrived at the crime scene, a back alley where someone had been shot.

"Single shot fired face-on from a small caliber weapon, the local detective filled them in.

"Robbery?" Alex asked.

"Possibly the watch. Wallet was found on the body. No money or credit cards." They walked under the crime scene tape and he handed over an evidence bag containing the wallet to Goren. "Cardboard was placed over his face."

"That's an odd gesture for a street crime," Goren observed.

M.E. Rodgers was on one knee beside the body, a clipboard in her hand. "Detectives," she said, rising to her feet. "There's no visible exit wound. I guess a single shot took out his pump." She flipped her pen in her hand and clicked it open and shut with her thumb.

"Small caliber entry, could be a .22," said Eames, squatting beside the dead man.

Goren bent over and put his hands on his knees. "Hit man's favorite," he told her.

Alex flipped out the man's suit coat and checked it from bottom to top. She examined all of his clothes with her eyes. "K-mart suit, white cotton socks. Work shoes. Dirt or grease under his nails," she told Bobby. "Something in his sock." Alex's gloved fingers dug into his sock and withdrew a key from beside his ankle. "Penn Station locker key." She handed it to the local detective who had briefed them. "Have your people collect what's in it."

"I'm on it," he said, and walked away.

Bobby's brow was furrowed. He was deep in thought. He looked at a card from the man's wallet. "We've got Victor Lustig, no photo ID, just a Social Security," Bobby said, waving the blue card as he discussed it. "No business cards."

"No. The thief would have taken the photo ID to use the credit cards."

"So, we've got a Brooks Brothers wallet… about $300…in a… K-mart suit." Bobby frowned and wandered back to oversee the work of the CSU guys.

* * *

Back at 1PP, Bobby briefed Ross as they walked through the halls and past the water fountain.

"You're not buying the Social Security card is valid."

"The only ID on that victim… is that card. And, the name… Victor… Lustig, happens to also be the name of a 19th century con man who once sold the Eiffel Tower," Bobby sauntered along with his hands in his pockets, hoping that he wasn't offending his Captain with his knowledge.

"Victor Lustig could also be a mechanic from Bayonne who got shot on the Lower East Side." Eames was waiting for them in an interview room. She had a collection of evidence bags on the table, most of them the items from the locker at Penn Station. "Name's not that unusual," Ross finished.

"Well, my guess is that the killer planted this wallet," Bobby held it up off the table for emphasis, "and card to hide the victim's identity because it connects them." He set it back down and put his hands in his pockets.

"And here's a name," Alex announced, holding a small bag with a pill bottle inside. "A prescription for Compazine made out to Anthony Burress by a Dr. DeSouza from Philadelphia."

"Compazine, that's an anti-nausea drug. I had to take it last summer after a PBA clambake," Ross told them.

Bobby opened an envelope and withdrew some old photographs.

"Oh, Halloween?" Alex asked, and he handed the pictures off to her. "I'd say the kids weren't having much fun." She looked at the mother and the two boys. The mother seemed like some kind of princess, and the younger boy looked absolutely miserable. In one photograph, the older boy wore a cape and a crown on his head."

"Yeah, I don't think it's Halloween," Bobby commented. He unfolded a piece of paper while Alex continued to look at the photos.

"So if Victor Lustig is now Anthony Burress," Ross said, "who's Anthony Burress?"

Bobby scratched his sideburn with one finger and replied, "Well, Anthony Burress' mail goes to 2112 Parsifal Street, Philadelphia. This is his phone bill."

"You can eat lunch on the Acela," Ross announced and left the Detectives in the room.

Alex sighed. "I'll call for tickets." She walked out, leaving Bobby to study the evidence in front of him.

* * *

They didn't have much to go on, yet, and most of their conversation wasn't about the case. "I like you better clean-shaven," Alex admitted.

Bobby gave her a small grin. "You do?"

She shrugged. "The beard kind of hurts."

"It does? Why didn't you say something? I would have—"

"It's okay. Don't worry about it. I guess I'm just trying to say you look handsome this way, okay?"

"Uh, okay. Thank you."

"God, you sound so formal."

"What? What am I supposed to say, then?"

"Nothing, never mind. Forget it. Let's go find the dining car, okay?" She got up and started walking down the center of the train car. After a sigh and a shake of his head, Bobby followed her.

"I wish if something bothers you, that you would just say it and don't wait until five days later," he told her as they went to sit down.

"It doesn't bother me, okay?" The tone of her voice was very bothered.

He cocked his head at her and she quickly sat down at the bar. Bobby settled down beside her. They ordered drinks and sandwiches. "I love you," Bobby said quietly.

"Not here, Goren. We're working."

"Right. Working." He took a bite of his sandwich and looked out the window at the blur of trees they were passing. "Nobody knows us here."

"I shouldn't have said anything."

"No, you should have. That's exactly my point."

Alex groaned. "If you don't stop I'm going to eat over there. By myself." She pointed at a table by the window.

"Okay, fine. I'll drop it." He leaned in and she could smell the sandwich on his breath. "But I do love you. You're pretty when you're mad."

She rolled her eyes and looked away from him. He turned back to his sandwich and ate in silence for a while.

"My sister thinks you don't believe you're welcome."

"Huh?"

"When you didn't come the other night. I told her I invited you and she said you must not believe that you're welcome."

"Fine. Next time. I'll go."

"You will?"

"Yeah."

Alex cocked her head at him this time. "I love you, too," she said quietly.

He 'dropped' his napkin and slipped his hand in her lap to catch it. He let his hand linger on her thigh as he slowly picked it up.

Alex cleared her throat and put her left hand in her lap.

He reached down with his right and took her hand in his. They rode that way until they pulled into Philadelphia.

* * *

"I rent by the week or by the month," the landlady told them as she escorted them to Anthony Burress' room. "Mostly to single guys who work nearby."

"How long did Mr. Burress live here?" Alex asked.

"Oh, about six months. He was working part time as a mechanic."

"Do you know where?"

"I only know he took the bus." She opened the door for them. "He owes a balance," She called after them went they went in. "Cops going to be paying me?"

"Uh, we'll talk after we look around," Alex answered, and pushed the door shut. A tiny kitchenette was beside the door, and a tiny table with two chairs. On the other side of the room was a bed, dresser, and a TV set. A bathroom was down the hall. The place wasn't much, but it was clean.

"Well, he knew how to live on minimum wage," Bobby said. Alex found a pile of mail on the dresser. Bobby rooted through his hamper. "I guess he wore his Sunday best when he got shot."

"That goes along with… meeting someone he was trying to impress. Here's something that's dated a little over a year ago. 'Dear Mr. Burress, I have no information on the person of whom you've inquired. Do not contact me again.' Signed Mavis Rightmire. Return address is New Canaan, Connecticut."

* * *

For some reason, Bobby was thinking of Frank. This victim was nothing like him, really. Frank couldn't stay clean long enough to keep an apartment. The one he had when he died was a wreck. The victim seemed to be all right. He had a nice little place there, and so what if his suit was from K-mart? For him, it was enough.

Goren was alone tonight. He'd parted ways with Alex in the squad room, and besides a phone call, they were enjoying some alone time tonight.

Bobby wasn't so sure he was enjoying it. He thought about their little spat on the train, and it occurred to him again that she was pretty when she was mad. She got a little flush in her cheeks, and she almost looked the same as when they'd been kissing.

For a moment, he wondered if she wanted to be alone tonight because she was still angry with him.

Bobby shook that thought away. Alex had been her usual self on the train back to the city. He had to stop thinking like this. He deserved to be loved. If there was one thing Alex was teaching him, it was that. He was a good man. He deserved some happiness.

Bobby stripped down to his shorts and climbed into bed. And if Alex got mad, it wasn't the end of their relationship. She was his best friend, and she wasn't going to kick him to the curb if he decided to grow a beard once in a while.


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

"Talked to your family lately?"

"Yeah, I get emails a couple of times a week, at least."

"How's Molly's hand?"

"She gets the stitches out tomorrow. She says it's itchy."

They arrived at the woman's porch and rang the bell.

"Can I help…" she paused as she saw their badges, "you?"

"I'm Detective Eames, this is Detective Goren, we're from Major Case, NYPD. We'd like to ask you a few questions. May we come in?"

"Of course," she said, and threw the door wide. She gestured to a sitting room off to the left of the doorway. They went inside and sat down on her oversized, flowery couch. Bobby opened his binder and readied himself to take notes on the coffee table in front of him.

"We found a letter from you in Anthony Burress' apartment. How did you know Mr. Burress?" Eames asked as the woman sat in her easy chair.

"Three years ago, I was engaged to a man named Richard Phelps. This Anthony Burress person saw a photo of us taken at a charity event. He wrote me wanting to know about Richard. He thought he knew him, and wanted to reestablish contact."

"And… did Mr. Phelps know Anthony Burress?" Bobby asked, still writing down what she had just said.

"He denied it. At first I believed him. Richard was Princeton '95. I was also Princeton. But when I showed him the letter his behavior changed."

"What, he thought that you mistrusted him, or…?"

She laughed. "He made irate accusations that I was checking his past… and that actually made me suspicious, so I hired a former police officer. He found things on Richard's computer." Then she added with a shrug, "Research."

"Research?" Eames asked.

"On others… divorced or widowed… well off…When I confronted Richard, he wanted to explain everything." She looked down. "We had a nice dinner, and we were very close that night." She seemed ashamed of it all. "And in the morning, he was gone."

"Did he have access to your accounts?" Goren asked.

"I don't think he was after money. His own money was tied up, so I just lent him a little pocket money, and I bought him a few nice gifts."

Bobby nodded and glanced over at Alex, who asked, "A Brooks Brothers wallet?"

The woman nodded. They thanked her for her time.

"Wait, let me give you the report… from the private investigator." She dug through a file cabinet and produced a two page report, which she handed over. "I don't need it anymore," she said.

With another round of thanks, the Detectives said goodbye. They discussed things as they walked back to the SUV. "The cop she hired was very thorough," Eames said. "So was Richard Phelps. His research on these women starts at Kindergarten… Lonely women… common mark for con men."

"With a twist," Bobby said. "He didn't grab her money before he left." He shook his head in frustration.

"I'm thinking if Burress' letter ruined his plan with Mavis Rightmire, it's possible Burress somehow ruined a more recent plan."

Bobby moved a misplaced hair on his forehead and gave her a look of agreement before he flopped down into the seat of the car.

* * *

After lunch, they returned to 1PP and met with Rodgers in the morgue. She showed them a computer display to illustrate what she reported to them. "The .22 caliber tumbled after entry, causing severe cardiac and arterial damage."

Bobby had donned gloves and he inspected the body while he listened.

"Death occurred within seconds," Rodgers said.

Goren lifted the man's right arm. "And this is a burn."

"It's old. Early childhood," Rodgers told him. "The pattern looks like a steam iron. There's a similar burn on the other forearm."

Alex's compassion showed in the troubled look on her face. "So as a child he might have been an abuse victim."

Rodgers gave a half-shrug.

"And what about the stomach contents?" Bobby asked. Sometimes they got their best leads based on what someone's last meal had been. "Any…thing tell us where he had his last meal?"

"Probably a vending machine," Rodgers said. She turned and read from her notes. "Balogna, white bread, processed cheese." She handed the report to Goren, who began studying it.

"No wonder he needed antinausea medication," Alex quipped.

"No, that was probably to deal with chemotherapy."

Eames' eyes widened. This victim had one bad thing piled onto another.

"Lab tests indicate a blood malignancy."

Bobby was paying attention, too. Why would someone kill a dying man?

"I'm not offering a medical expert opinion," Rodgers said, "but… what I saw didn't look good."

That was all Goren needed to hear. Rodgers had proven her expertise for years. Alex's expression was full of sadness when he turned and gave her a nod.

In spite of how she felt about their victim, the news was good for the detectives. If he was receiving cancer treatment, they had a way to find out more about him, and possibly Richard Phelps.

They caught up the Captain again in his office. His secretary was there, and he listened while he signed off on reports.

"I called the doctor who wrote the Compazine prescription. He was treating Burress for lymphoma," Eames said.

"Had he given a prognosis?" the Captain asked.

"Six months, tops."

Goren glanced down before he spoke. "I doubt the killer was aware that Burress was sick."

"Because he wouldn't bother to kill a man he knew was dying."

"I mean, why would a dying man extort money?" Goren asked.

"Maybe he had a greedy family," Ross suggested. "What do we know about his family?"

Alex looked into the file. "Uh, his medical records had only one person listed as next of kin. Patricia Lumet, his ex-wife. She works at a supermarket in Metro Park."

* * *

Alex snuck a few glances at Bobby on the drive out there. She worried because his mother had died of lymphoma, and it had been a long and hard ordeal for him. He was very quiet, but he seemed okay.

And again, she felt a great compassion for their victim. They still didn't know the whole story, but it seemed he had one bad thing piled onto another, and then his very life had been stolen from him.

She pulled into the parking lot and parked. They asked a shift manager, and he walked them over to her. "Patricia, these two are NYPD. They want to talk to you. Take your break."

She did as the man said. "Why do you need to talk to me?" She asked, with the honest surprise of someone who had never done anything wrong in her life.

"We need to ask you some questions about your ex-husband," Alex said.

"Anthony? Oh, sure. Can we… do you mind if I smoke? I always take a smoke on my break."

They let her lead the way outside.

"Is he in trouble or something?"

"There's no easy way to say this," Alex began, and the woman came to a stop in the lot. "Anthony was killed. His body was found in an alley in the Lower East Side."

"We're very sorry for your loss," Bobby said, and the woman lit her cigarette with shaking hands.

"Poor Anthony," she said, and it was sincere. "Nothing ever went right for him… nothing."

"You were married three years, was any of it good?" Alex asked.

"Yeah, at first, kind of… but… you know, Anthony was damaged goods."

"What do you mean?" Bobby asked.

"I mean, he wasn't a bad guy, he just couldn't hold nothing together… jobs, night school, he just couldn't cut it." She took a draw off her cigarette.

"You weren't aware of his illness? You were listed as next of kin."

"I guess he never had no one else. I mean, he never really had a home, and his mother was…" she waved her fingers in a circle by her head, "You know, was schizo?"

Bobby nodded, gaping slightly. Like Eames, he was feeling more and more compassion for their victim. He thought about the burn scars on Anthony's arms, and looked down at a crack in the pavement. "And he was removed from her care?"

"No, she died." She bit her bottom lip. "Hey I don't know if she killed herself or what, but there was something weird, and he wouldn't talk about it. So… well, he and his brother went into foster care."

Alex's head lifted at the word "brother," but she kept herself from looking Bobby's way. There were too many similarities here. This could be the Goren family they were investigating.

Bobby was okay, though. He looked over at Eames, only for a moment, and asked, "His brother?"

"Yeah. Thomas. Anthony used to talk about finding him, but it never happened."

Bobby stared at her, his mind whirling. He blinked.

"I've got to go—can't be late on break." They nodded at her, and she headed back inside the store. Alex's phone rang before she and Bobby had the chance to talk.

"Eames." She listened, and Bobby turned his head toward a figure he saw walking in the distance. He turned right back to her, looking into her eyes as she listened to her caller. "Okay, thanks," she said, and ended the call.

"Burress' last call was to an Upper East Side residential phone. The name's Vanderhoven." She led the way back to the SUV.

"Bobby, are you okay?" She asked, halfway to his apartment. It was pushing 10:00 at night, and they had decided to contact Vanderhoven in the morning.

"Yeah, fine."

"You're awfully quiet. And the case—"

"It's just a case, Eames. He's not me, okay?"

She frowned. He was thinking the same thing she was. "You're right. He's not you." She reached out for his hand, but her affection was not returned. Bobby humored her for a moment, but then he folded his arms and stared out his window. Alex brought her own hand back and placed it on the steering wheel.

She pulled up as if to parallel park.

"You don't have to do that," Bobby said. "I'll see you in the morning."

"Bobby." He was already halfway out of the seat. "Bobby!"

He set his binder on the roof of the vehicle and bent down far enough she could see him.

Alex looked at him with great concern. He was in a mood, but his eyes were sharp, and he was focused on her. "Call me, if you need to talk or anything."

He nodded at her.

"I'll see you in the morning."

"Bye," he said quietly. Bobby grabbed his binder and shut the door. With a final wave, he turned and walked into his building.

* * *

There was an email from Molly, but Bobby was in no mood to respond. He found himself imagining what Frank's life might have been like had he not been an addict. Would he have finished college, got a salaried job? Or would the pressure of school have been too much? Would he have dropped out and been like Anthony? A skilled laborer, working for nothing more than minimum wage and barely scraping by?

Would he have had a family? Or, like Bobby, would he have been too 'damaged' to manage it? Would he have been able to have made it work with Donny's mother? Would he have been there to raise his son?

Bobby shook his head and scraped his fingertips against his scalp. It didn't matter. It just didn't matter. Frank was who he was, and now he was dead.


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21

She sank into her desk chair, picking up the paper cup to sip from the coffee he'd gotten her.

"Good morning," Bobby said. "I already sent in a request for records from CPS. They promised to get back with me by lunchtime." Alex nodded at him as she listened. "I also got the skinny on the Vanderhovens. Lucretia and Gray Vanderhoven. New money, he married into the family."

Alex took another drink of coffee.

"You okay?"

"Yeah. Fine." She said, feeling a little anger over their parting the night before.

"Okay, I'm sorry, all right?" He scratched his head and leaned far forward, clasping his hands together on his desk. "Eames, I can't be…sometimes I have to think things through on my own."

"You've thought them through?" she asked, and he shrugged. "So you can tell me now?"

Bobby looked around the squad room. "No, not _now._ But soon, okay? Just don't… hold a grudge about it, okay?"

"A grudge? Why would I hold a grudge about anything?"

Bobby bit his lip. "You're right. I'm sorry. Again." He leaned back stretched his back muscles, and then dropped forward again, clasping his hands together. "Look, let's start over. Okay?" He arranged the papers on his desk. "Good morning. I'm sorry about last night."

She shook her head and chuckled quietly. "You suck, do you know that?"

Bobby grinned and nodded.

"Let's go meet the Vanderhovens." Alex stood and gave him a look as she grabbed her purse and her coffee.

* * *

"Is he dead, is that why you're here?" Lucretia asked.

"Why do you… assume that?" Bobby asked quietly.

"I don't assume anything. Then what has he done? Are there others? Is he one of those… you know… he signed an armored prenup with no objections."

"When did he leave?" Eames asked.

"Thursday night."

"Why don't you… tell us about that evening," Bobby gestured with his hand, which was almost hidden by the coat draped over his arm.

"I was to be honored at a major charity event. We had a little Mr. and Mrs. about a stupid phone call from the alarm company. Nothing." She paused and drew in a breath. "It's so tawdry. I came home, the place was torn up and he was gone."

"How did you meet him?" Bobby was starting to bounce as he put the pieces together in his mind. Their perp was certainly a con-man, and they were getting much closer.

"I have a house in Montauk. He called about renting it."

"Did he?"

"He didn't need to. Uh, we met, he was charming." She took in a another long breath. "We're both Princeton, had things in common."

"Princeton," Eames repeated. She nodded at Vanderhoven, to encourage her to keep talking.

"The night he left he was annoyed at me for signing him up for a reunion."

"Maybe he didn't really go to Princeton," Bobby suggested.

"Oh, he must have. He knew all the right names. He even knew the Occidental Club secret recipe for boneless shad."

Nothing ever surprised Bobby in this business, but of all the things he'd ever heard, that sounded ridiculous. He kept his poker face on, but he lowered his head and stared at her as if to say, _Really? You can tell someone went to Princeton based on a secret fish recipe?_

Alex saved him. "You say he tore the place up. Did he take anything of value?"

"No. He didn't find what he was looking for." She turned and opened a drawer in the bureau beside the wall. "This." She brought out a framed family crest. "I was having it framed as a surprise present for him. It seemed to be the only thing he really valued."

Bobby looked at the crest, then at Vanderhoven, then back at the crest again. "Ex Noblis Prussia," he read. "Do you know what it says?"

"I don't know Latin," she admitted, "but Gray said it was a family crest. He didn't want to brag about it."

Goren nodded at her. "It documents descent from East Prussian royalty," he explained.

"I wouldn't know," she said. "I don't even know who I married."

* * *

"Lukie Vanderhoven married a phony pedigree, he failed to get at her money." Ross stood over Goren and Eames' desks, catching himself up on their case. "They both came up empty handed."

Bobby glanced over at Alex. "I don't think it was the money that Gray was after," Bobby told his Captain.

"Lukie bragged that he signed an ironclad prenup," Alex added, giving Bobby a supportive look as she spoke.

"Call me a skeptic. No way he married for love. Fifth Avenue apartment, full social calendar, that's money."

"Yeah, but it's also a lifestyle that matches a vision," Bobby interjected, "that he has of himself."

"He left jewelry, expensive art, but he tore Lukie's place apart looking for the certification of his family crest."

"So this guy's what? Some kind of penniless aristocrat?" Ross shrugged and stared at his detectives.

"Well, this title that he's claiming," Bobby explained, "uh… the Count of Haugwitz? It existed in East Prussia. But his mother is Amish, so this noble heritage… it's delusional."

"And then there's Princeton," Alex added. "He claims he went there, and as far as we know, he only targets Princeton grads. Lukie swears he went there. He even knew a secret recipe from the Occidental Club."

Ross raised his head in recognition. "Occidental Club is very prestigious, limited to select membership."

The detectives listened to what Ross had to say.

"Maybe you should get down there, see what you can find out."

* * *

"It's always been rowdy, but I thought when the courts forced the club to let women in it would calm things down. But just the opposite." The manager of the Occidental Club, Cal Howard, walked them through the dining area as his employees hurried to clean up the latest mess.

"We're wondering if you remember this man," Alex said, holding out a photograph of Gray Vanderhoven.

"Oh, Burress," he said. He quickly put his glasses on to get a better look at the picture. "Yeah, Tommy Burress." Alex looked back at Bobby, who was standing across the room, near the windows. "He was real sharp. Always wore a tie, even when he was washing dishes." He laughed.

Alex took the photo back. "Uh, the students pay what, ten grand to eat here? And they still have to wash their own plates?" She asked.

"Oh, Tommy wasn't a member," Cal said. "He worked here."

"But he was a scholarship student, right?" Goren asked.

"He wanted people to think that, and he was smart. "He would bide his time while some smartass bragged how he had just aced the philosophy exam, and Tommy would quote that guy Nietzsche in German."

"But he was lying," said Alex.

"Well, hey, sounded good." Cal was smiling at the memories. "Called himself an auto… tridact."

"Autodidact, self-educated," Goren corrected.

"Yeah, that was him. Yeah, he sat in on some classes, but he never registered."

"How long was he here?" Bobby walked over to examine some plaques on the wall while Alex spoke.

"Couple years. Then one day he just stopped showing up."

"Thanks for your help," she said.

"Sure," said Cal.

Eames walked over to Bobby, who threw his chin in the direction of the plaques on the wall. "There's a plaque here for five students that died in a climbing accident."

Goren read the names on the plaque. "Jeff Walters, George Gifford, Tyler Chisolm, Richard Phelps, Gray Vanderhoven."

They headed to the administration building and were sent to speak with a secretary. They asked their question and waited a few minutes while she pulled the files.

"Yes. Gray Vanderhoven was a student here until his death in 1983."

"And Tommy Burress, anything?" Eames asked.

The secretary put her glasses on and looked down at the paperwork on her desk. "Princeton hires at-risk teens as part of our community outreach. He was an employee here."

"Referred by Children's Protective Services?" Eames asked.

"Well, according to this, he showed real promise and was encouraged to get a GED. But there were problems."

"Behavioral problems?" Bobby asked.

"He threatened a Russian history professor who questioned some claim of his royal lineage."

Goren looked over at his partner, who nodded with a frown. On the way out to the car, his phone rang.

"Goren," he said. "Okay, thanks. No, we can come to you. Sure." He hung up and looked down at Eames. "We can go meet the social worker who managed both boys' cases at CPS."

* * *

"Yeah, I remember them. The Burress boys."

"That's a long time ago, you've got a good memory," Goren noted.

"One of my first cases. Those you never forget. Yeah, Tom was the older one. And Anthony." She stopped walking and paused in thought. "So sweet, so sad. He bounced from one foster home to another. What they put him through is the real crime."

"The foster families?" Alex asked.

"The cops. Making him testify against his brother."

"Testify?" Goren asked.

"Apparently Anthony saw Tommy kill their mom."

Eames swallowed hard. Again, she thought about their victim, and what a crappy life he had. They thanked her for her time and headed back toward the building.

"I'll try and track down as many foster parents as I can," Bobby told her.

"I'll pull the records from the trial," Eames said. Goren gave her a nod, and she left him at the CPS headquarters.

* * *

They were kind enough to give him a vacant room to work in. Goren was holed up for three hours at a scratched wooden table, surrounded by no less than 17 file folders on the Burress boys. The stack on his right contained the information about Anthony, and the ones on the left about Tommy. One by one, he called the former foster parents, and made notes about the two boys.

"Uh-huh," he was saying as he scratched notes in his ledger. "And he said she burned him with the steam iron? Did he say anything about why?" He listened carefully, and wrote three words: _You're not clean_.

"And she told him she was… purifying him somehow?" Bobby frowned and ran his hand through his hair. He closed his eyes and listened.

"He kept asking about his brother Tommy. The courts decided the boys shouldn't be together. They didn't want Tommy to hurt Anthony because he'd testified against him. He cried about it a lot. He told me Tommy took care of him. He put butter on that burn on his arm."

"And can you think of anything else Anthony used to say or do? It doesn't matter if it seemed important or not."

"The first night he was here, he filled the bathtub with water and told me he had my bath ready. It seemed kind of sweet, you know? But kinda weird at the same time. He offered to get the tub ready a lot. I asked the social worker if she knew why he was doing that, and she said his mother had died in the bathtub, and maybe he was just trying to work it all out or something."

* * *

Eames read the transcripts from the court case, but when she tried to get hold of the interrogation videos, she hit a brick wall. As usual, the people in evidence couldn't find anything. She checked the time on her watch and rubbed her eyes. It was getting late.

Alex called Bobby, who answered right away. "How are things going?"

"Fine," he said, and she could hear the tension in his voice.

"You found something?"

"A lot. I, uh… I have to process it, you know. I'll fill you in tomorrow."

"Well, I'm done over here, too. Evidence can't find the interrogation tapes. I told them to get their asses in gear or to expect a call from the Chief of D's in the morning."

"Wow, you've got some pull," Goren teased.

"Yeah, well, what they don't know won't hurt them, right?" She paused, imagining his smile. "You okay, Bobby?"

He had a smile until he heard her question. His face grew somber. "Yeah. I'm okay. I'll see you in the morning, Alex."

"Good night, Bobby."

* * *

A/N If you haven't seen the episode in a while, you might wanna go back and watch. I find Goren's reaction to that line about the boneless shad hysterical. :)


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22

_"You're my perfect little boy," Frances Goren said, cooing over young Frank. "You are so smart. You'll do great things. You'll invent a rocketship, or find a cure for the world's diseases. My young prince, that's what you are."_

_ Bobby listened from the other end of the coffee table. He pretended to play with his blocks, but he listened. His mother held Frank on her knee, hugging him generously and singing his praises nonstop, while their father watched the ball game on the television set._

_ The blocks tumbled, and one landed in her glass, causing the tea to splash over the side. Bobby reached out to catch the block, but he knocked the glass over. His father, William, grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and almost stuck Bobby's face in the mess. Within seconds, Frank had run to the kitchen and back, a towel in his hand._

_ "It's all right, Daddy, I got something," Frank started to wipe up the mess, and William snatched it from his hands. He handed it roughly to little Bobby, who tried to clean it up, but he was shaking so violently from his sobs that all he managed to do was smear it further across the table. William screamed in his ear, and Frank tried to take over, but William told Frances to take Frank to his room._

_ Bobby's mother said, "I'll do it," and reached for the towel, but the look of warning on her husband's face stopped her. Slowly, she took Frank by the hand and walked him upstairs, leaving Bobby to fend for himself._

Bobby rubbed his arms. He'd been sitting very still in the living room with no shirt on, and his arms were like ice. He rubbed them vigorously and got to his feet, trying to shake away the bad memories.

But another one came. A night when his mother had been raving mad, and neither he nor Frank had gotten any sleep. His brother had snuck past her into the kitchen, found some peanut butter and crackers and snuck them back upstairs. They caught hell for the mess, but at least they hadn't starved.

And he remembered, too, the time when his parents had argued so loudly. Bobby was 11 then, and he didn't like the way his Dad was talking to his mother. He'd gone into the kitchen just in time to see his mother fly up against the counter, and his Dad with hands in fists. Bobby had thrown himself between them. He'd seen the knife on the counter, and he'd thought about killing him. He'd seriously considered it. But William Goren had turned and left. He came back once more to get his clothes, and then he was gone from their lives for good.

_You could have gone either way, _Jo Gage's voice taunted him.

Bobby rubbed his eyes and went to the kitchen, where he poured himself a stiff one.

He remembered that last argument with Frank. _I'm smart! I was the one!_

The Gorens and the Burresses weren't so different. Tommy Burress had simply lived out the delusion his mother had given him. Frank had run away from everything with the drugs. Bobby understood Anthony. He'd been Anthony.

He thought about the Burress boys, and the Goren boys, and the long nights listening to schizophrenia at its worst. Frances had never intentionally abused him or Frank, but William Goren had. Mr. Goren had been smart, though, leaving nothing more permanent than a bruise or a small scar that could easily be explained away as a childish mishap.

After finishing his drink, Bobby's mind ran through a slew of bad memories again. An hour later, he pounded his fist on the table. This wasn't helping anything. This was pulling him down like quicksand. He tried to think of something positive, but he was too full of anger. He desperately needed a distraction.

He yanked open his laptop and waited while it started up. Then he opened his email and found he'd gotten a message from his sister.

In the hopes of distraction, he opened it.

_Dear Bobby,_

_ I know you must be busy or something, or you would have answered Molly by now. She's convinced that you've been shot like always happens to the cops in the TV shows, and she's almost hysterical from the worry._

_ I told her you're probably busy working and you'll get back with her soon, but it's not helping. If you have a minute, please send her a note. I don't think I can deal with the drama anymore._

_ I hope you're okay._

_ Kathy_

Bobby cursed under his breath. He was in no frame of mind to write to a little girl. He ticked through his options.

He could call Eames, tell her what he'd been thinking.

He could tell Kathy.

He could avoid them all and go out, hit a bar somewhere.

Goren sighed. The last thing he needed was to drag into work in the morning with a hangover. He had to get his head together. He had a case to solve, a killer to catch.

And all of a sudden, he found himself wondering why in hell Tommy would kill his dying brother. It didn't fit. Tommy was the caregiver, same as Frank. As fucked up as that was, they loved each other. Bobby knew that first hand. He knew how much it hurt when Frank died, and he couldn't wrap his head around why Tommy would kill Anthony. After all these years, he couldn't have cared about the testimony.

And if he was so worried about losing his lifestyle, why not just ask his brother to keep some distance?

It just didn't add up.

Tommy must not have known Anthony was dying. But why didn't Anthony just tell him?

An image of Donny popped into his head. Why didn't Frank tell Bobby he had a son? Or their mother? Eighteen years, Frank couldn't figure out a way to broach the subject.

He cursed again.

_Dear Kathy,_

_Tell Molly I'm fine, and not to believe everything she sees on TV. You're right, I am busy. We're working a pretty heavy case, one that's stirred up some memories for me._

_You remember how I told you my brother was killed? There's a lot more I didn't tell, and I don't know that you'll want to hear about it all, but I'm finding myself with no one I'm comfortable talking to._

He hesitated over the backspace key. He highlighted the entire email and almost deleted it, but then clicked and kept typing.

_My mother was schizophrenic. My Dad, the one I knew as Dad, was a gambling, abusive drunk. Frank, my brother, took care of me until I was old enough to take care of myself._

_You know, when Mom was good, she was great. But when she was in the throes of a schizophrenic episode, it was very bad. Dad couldn't handle it. He left us all when I was 11. Frank couldn't either. He started using in High School and dropped out of college. I did the best I could, but I guess you've figured out by now that I'm a mess, too._

_I found out about Brady just before Mom died. They both died in the same week. _

Again, Bobby hovered over the delete button for a moment, but he swallowed hard and kept going.

_It was a year later when Frank was murdered, and it was because of me. Everything I know about being a profiler, about interrogation and doing my job, I learned from Declan Gage. He's the man behind my brother's murder._

_You can disown me if you want. I don't want to be responsible for anyone else getting hurt._

_But on the off chance you don't think I'm cursed, I'll tell you the rest. Declan said he was setting me free, that my family was holding me back with all their needs and their dysfunction._

_And the Chief of Detectives asked me if I've ever wondered if I was crazy._

_And sometime after that, I discovered you._

_You understand now why I wasn't the friendliest of houseguests. For a long time, I've felt like I was swimming alone in a dark sea, with the undertow sucking at my feet._

_I don't feel that way now, but I am still angry about it. I loved them, Kathy. All of them. My Mom, and my brother, and my Dad, and as a kid I probably loved Brady, too. I suppose I never knew any better._

_Eames, she tells me that's what makes me special, that I care about people. That I can love, in spite of the way I grew up. But I know I'm smart, and I know it's foolish to love someone who can't love you back. But I felt it anyway. And so I think maybe I'm not so smart after all._

_I think I should tell Eames about it, and then I think she'll just sweep it under the rug, tell me I'm overthinking everything. She understands the love, but not the anger. She can never understand the anger. I can't talk to her about it, you know?_

_You probably don't want anything to do with me now, and for what it's worth, I understand. Thanks for letting me get all this off my chest._

_Bobby_


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter 23

Alex wanted to call him. She sat cross-legged on her couch, staring at a movie on the TV, but not hearing a word of what the actors were saying. She was thinking of Bobby.

From what she'd learned today, the Burress brothers were at home with their mother, who apparently liked to dress up and go on and on about how she was Prussian royalty. She would dress them up sometimes, too, especially Tommy. And along with the obsession with her ancestry, she would become obsessed with cleanliness.

She took baths, sometimes in her clothes. She steam-cleaned Anthony's arms with the iron. She scrubbed the boys sometimes until they bled.

And so Tommy did his best to take care of Anthony. He played along with the woman's insanity, and he doctored his brother's wounds. He made sure his brother ate and went to school.

The courts determined that the woman had been electrocuted when Tommy had tossed a space heater into the bathtub with her. The thing that was so sad about it was that they forced Anthony to come into the courtroom and tell the room that his brother had killed his mother.

Over the years, Alex had learned a little about Bobby's childhood. He didn't like to talk badly about his family, but occasionally the truth came out.

Alex had been a cop long enough to have seen almost everything. She had some experience with the mentally ill. She'd seen people in manic episodes. She didn't kid herself, though. What she had seen was a drop in the bucket compared to what people endured when they lived with someone who had a mental illness.

Bobby had lived that. And she'd seen him expertly handle the most outrageous situations, a skill honed from experience.

So when she thought about the Burress brothers, she couldn't help but see young Bobby and Frank.

Not everything was the same, of course. With the Burresses, it seemed Tommy was the smart one. Bobby would likely disagree, but in her opinion, between him and Frank, he was the smarter one.

But the similarities were there, nonetheless. A schizophrenic mother, two young boys. The older one caring for the younger one. A shared delusion for the older boy, emotional neglect for the younger one. Alex knew enough of Bobby's story to know that was true.

And losing your brother to murder. There was that, too.

So Alex Eames sat alone, thinking of the man she loved, and wishing somehow she could comfort him.

* * *

_Dear Bobby,_

_ My heart is aching for you right now, but I know what you mean about your friend not understanding your anger. I love Hank with all my heart, but he can never understand the things I've been feeling since I learned Brady was a killer._

_ And no, I won't abandon you. If there's one thing I've learned from this last several months, it's that nobody really asks for what they get in life. Things happen. And it's not fair to judge somebody just because they've been through some kind of hell._

_ I choose to judge you based on what I've seen first-hand. You're polite and kind. You care about people. You're good with children. And the childhood you endured could have turned you into a monster like our father, but instead, you decided to grapple with evil head-on._

_ I can't imagine that it's easy for you. But I am grateful to know there are men like you in the world, making it a safer place to live._

_ And it's funny. A few months ago I didn't even know I had a brother, but I'm proud to call you my brother._

_ It's getting late, and I have to leave early in the morning to take the van into the shop. I hope you can get some sleep tonight, Bobby._

_ You'll be in my prayers._

_ Kathy_

* * *

"Morning," she said, and Alex was pleasantly surprised to see that he looked rested.

"Good morning," he said quietly. Bobby gestured to the interview room that was now their second home. "In here," he told her.

Alex followed him in and Bobby read through his notes, revealing one horror at a time.

"I'm still waiting for the videos," she said. She checked her watch. "I'll give them until 9:30, and then I'm calling Ross. But from what I read in the court documents," she said, passing Bobby copies of the transcripts, "Anthony testified that Tommy threw the space heater into the tub with their mother."

"Why? Why would he do that?" Goren asked, the question coming from a deeper understanding than Alex could ever know. "What made that night any different than any other night?"

"Maybe the interrogation tapes will tell us."

* * *

Bobby was feeling sick to his stomach. They watched the videos and then selected portions to fill in the Captain. The longer Goren watched, the more twitchy he felt. He started to bounce his knee.

The Detective onscreen was speaking to little Anthony. The child had already been in interrogation for three and a half hours. "We can waste a whole lot of time here, but it won't do any good. We know your brother killed your mother."

"No, I don't think so," the little boy said.

"Can you believe this?!" Alex asked, her arms folded in disgust as she threw her question in the direction of the Captain.

Bobby simply turned his head away and jiggled his knee.

"You know what's gonna happen," the cop on the TV said. "Your brother's gonna admit what he did. "Then you're gonna be in a whole lot of trouble."

"Why will I be in trouble?" The child asked.

"You lied. You want to go to jail?"

"No." Bobby stared silently at the tortured little boy. The child looked up at the policeman, and told him what he wanted to hear. "He's what you say."

"Your brother, he killed her?"

"Yeah."

With a frown, Bobby stopped the tape. He turned his head toward the Captain and spoke. "So you know they keep them in separate rooms, they play one against the other." Bobby turned away again, and rolled the wheeled chair on the floor.

"The kids are trying to figure out what the guards want to hear… so they can tell it to them," Eames said.

"It would never have made it through court."

"It didn't have to. They were children."

"Now here's the other brother," Bobby said, switching a new video on. The time display indicated he had been in interrogation for seven hours.

"Hey, we're all tired," the detective said. "But we can't leave here until this is settled. You've gotta be a man." Alex watched again, shaking her head in disgust. Goren's jaw jutted out in anger as he silently watched it again. "We know it was to protect your brother." At the next question, the man smacked his hand against the back of the boy's chair, and the child flinched. "Didn't you protect him when your mother got mean?"

"Yeah," the boy said.

"Well, I respect that. He respects that," the cop on the tape said. Bobby lifted one of the photographs of Tommy and Anthony and their mother and studied it while he listened. In the photo, the mother was smiling, and Tommy, but Anthony looked absolutely miserable.

The man onscreen continued to talk. "He cried when he told us he saw you throw the heater in the tub."

Even Ross was disgusted by what they were watching. He turned his back and walked out of the room.

"He knew it was to protect him."

"He saw me?"

"He saw you. That's what he says. So you might as well give it up." Young Tommy shook his head and raised what looked like a necklace up to touch the crown of his head. He covered his face with his hands and wept.

"What's that in Tommy's hand?" Eames asked Goren.

Bobby clicked the remote to pause the tape. "It's his mother's tiara," he answered.

"Detective?" A woman called from the doorway. Eames turned around, but Bobby continued to stare at the frozen image of Tommy crying with the tiara pressed against his forehead.

"Thank you," Eames said, and the woman left. "I checked out the names of those students who died on the mountain," Alex told Bobby. "Someone just ran a general credit inquiry on the name Tyler Chisholm."

"Looks like he's leasing a house on Nantucket," Bobby read off the printout. He blinked a couple of times, trying to shake out of the grim mood the interrogation tapes had put him in. He looked over at Eames. This was their big lead. They could catch him.

* * *

On the drive to Nantucket, Alex tried to talk to him. "I wish you would just tell me," she said. "I'm not blind, Bobby, I know this is eating you up."

"No. It's not." He didn't make eye contact, just stared out the window and shifted his weight in the seat.

"Well, it's eating me up and I'm not the doppelganger here."

He cleared his throat. "What do you want me to say, Alex? That I feel for them? Of course I do. I always do. You do, too. You can't deny that."

"You're right. I do. But there's more going on with you, Bobby, and I can't believe you won't talk to me about it."

"Maybe I can't talk to you."

"Why?"

He frowned and sighed and wiped his face with one large hand. "Alex," he said, trying to lessen the tension between them. "I have talked to… someone, all right? And I'm… I'm okay. Just trust me on that, will you?"

She was quiet for a long time. Bobby's hand snaked across the console and he found her arm. Alex moved too, and they linked their hands together.

"I'm okay, Alex."

"Okay," she said. "I trust you, Bobby."

He kneaded her fingers gently with his as they made the long drive to catch the ferry to the island. They held hands as long as they could.


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter 24

They arrived at the office of Cam Morgan, Realtor. "Mr. Morgan?" Bobby called as he and Eames walked in wearing their shields in full view.

"That's right," the man said.

"Hello, I'm Detective Goren, this is Detective Eames, we're from the Major Case Squad, NYPD."

The man stood behind his chair, gripping it nervously. He wasn't accustomed to talking to the police.

"You ran a credit check on a man named Tyler Chisholm?" Eames asked.

Bobby opened his binder to find the photo of their suspect.

"He rented a house from us. What's the problem?" he asked, as his daughter came in the back door.

"Is this the man?" Bobby asked, passing over the photograph of Gray Vanderhoven.

"What is it, Dad?"

The man looked at the picture carefully and then back at Goren. "Who is he, really?"

"We can't discuss that," Eames said as the father passed the photo to his daughter, who barely looked at it. "We need directions to that house."

"What's going on? What's Tyler done?"

"Stay out of this, honey," Mr. Morgan warned.

"Dad?"

"Julie, I'll deal with this." As the two family members spoke, Bobby turned to his partner and back again. He slowly walked closer to the woman.

"You obviously know him," Goren said, taking the photo back.

"Calling to warn him would be a felony," Eames called out to her. The two detectives followed her father out the door. Eames secured backup from the Nantucket Police and the State Troopers, and they rushed out to the rental.

On a lonely marsh road in Nantucket, it would be hard to miss a caravan like that. By the time they arrived at the house, he had already bolted out the back door.

The officers began a search and one of them spotted him running through the reeds. He tripped and fell hard on the ground, and the Troopers picked him up. Goren and Eames watched from the road.

"Thomas Burress," Bobby called out.

"You've got the wrong guy," he replied. "That's not my name."

"Your fingerprints will prove you wrong," Eames said.

"That's all you'll prove," he challenged, and the Troopers turned him toward the cruisers.

"Come on," one of them said.

Goren turned back and gave Alex a look, trying to read if her first impression matched his.

* * *

"Eames," Ross called when she appeared at her desk. She looked over and he waved her into his office. "I'm aware of the… similarities between this case and Goren's—"

"Goren's fine," she said firmly.

Ross kept his chin down, but he gave her a hard stare. He tried another tack. "You haven't rested in a while—"

"We took turns driving back from Massachusetts. We both got in a nap."

Ross frowned. "Nonetheless. I'm taking the interrogation myself. I'll bring in ADA Whitney. You and your partner… take a step back."

"Captain…!" Alex was exasperated.

"You can work it from other angles. Get a positive ID from the con victims. Find a kingpin that will put him away."

Alex sighed and nodded. She went back to her desk, and broke the news to her partner.

* * *

"Yes, that's my husband," Lukie Vanderhoven said, watching them through the window of the observation room.

"Well, his real name is Thomas Burress," Bobby explained.

"Who is he?" She asked. "Where is he from?"

"Well, he was born in Hershey, Pennsylvania."

"So humiliating," she said, as Bobby walked her back out to the squad room, past the interview room where Eames was with Julie Morgan.

* * *

"I know he's a novelist," Julianne was saying. "I knew creative people at Princeton. They aren't like other people. I majored in English. I know that he's gifted."

"What did he say to you?" Alex asked.

"He talked about his novel. It was real."

* * *

Bobby sat at a table in another interview room with Mrs. Vanderhoven. "He understood finance. At our annual dinner, I heard him talk about, uh, market trends with Brad Burnep of Crown Funds. Brad thought he was a genius."

"He get any money from these people?" He asked quietly.

"Half a million from Brad. For my pet project, restoring the fountains of Versailles."

"And… it all went to your charity?"

"Every penny."

* * *

In interrogation room C, Ross and Whitney weren't having much luck.

"An indictment?" Burress almost laughed. "That would happen in your dreams, Counselor."

"We have evidence," Whitney said. "A lease signed in another man's name. Driver's license."

"Yeah? So? Look hard, you might find a misdemeanor."

"There's something much bigger than that," Ross announced. He was leaning against the wall beside the two way mirror.

"Oh, the-the tragedy of my brother's death. The only thing that connects me to that is my grief!"

"Take credit for the wallet and the phony ID you planted on his body."

"Hey, come on, the wallet was a Christmas present." Burress looked between the two men in front of him. Then he leaned forward, gesturing with his hands over the table. "So, Mr. DA, the crime of regifting, what kind of time are they giving for that these days?" Burress stuck one finger against his temple.

"Witness testimony will establish you had motive, means, and opportunity."

He turned his head with a smile. "Okay, the wonderful Lukie. Yeah, I'd be careful putting her on the stand," Burress snarked. "She might work better for me than for you."

* * *

They compared notes in the Captain's office.

"He's right," Goren said. "She'd make him sound wholesome to avoid appearing like a fool."

"And Julianne is still smitten. You wouldn't want a grand jury hearing anything she might say."

"How hard can we come down on the identity charges?" Ross asked the ADA.

"He's been very smart," replied Whitney.

"Don't tell me that son of a bitch is going to walk!" Ross said in frustration.

"If we release him, he's going to change his identity and vanish," Bobby warned.

"Go back to the women," Ross ordered. "Push them on anything he's done, anything he's said, anything potentially incriminating."

With a determined look, the detectives left the room.

* * *

"He never told me anything remotely incriminating," Julianne was saying over a mug of tea.

"I believe that," Eames said, her fingers wrapped around a ceramic coffee cup. "He's clever. He's had practice." Eames paused in thought for a moment. She had to keep this conversation as comfortable as possible. She tried to make it feel like girl talk.

"But when you first… are with a guy," she continued, "there's usually something he says or… something he does that… raises a flag." She paused a minute and then spoke again. "I-I'm just asking if… there was anything that made you ask… yourself, 'Is he okay?' Maybe something… little that… didn't seem to matter."

Alex could already see on the woman's face that she'd had that moment. She knew there was something on the tip of her tongue, if she could just find the courage to say it.

"The day after he took the place I saw him in the skiff. He wasn't rowing, just sitting. He… dropped something in the water and sat just watching where he dropped it. I don't know what it was."

Eames listened carefully. "Do you know where this was?"

She nodded.

* * *

"I wanna go in with him," Bobby said.

Alex turned to him with a quiet nod of support, and he could almost hear her words again. _I trust you, Bobby._

"No." Ross stared him down.

"Why?" Bobby demanded.

Ross frowned. "You're too close to this. It's personal."

"As personal as Declan Gage?!" Goren challenged. "As Mark… Ford… Brady?" As he said his father's name, he gave Ross a cold, hard stare. "This… case… this is not my family," Goren said. "There are similarities, but that's all they are. I need to interrogate him. I have to talk to Tommy."

"We'll find the weapon," Ross said. "Ms. Morgan is leading the divers to the spot as we speak."

"I can get a confession out of him." Bobby was absolute.

"We don't need it."

"This guy, Tommy, he's smart, all right? If he finds just one little glitch… you remember what he said about 'regifting?' We can't take that chance."

Alex chimed in. "Even if we find the gun, he'll talk his way around it. He's a charmer, Captain. A reasonable doubt will be child's play for him."

Ross sighed heavily. He turned his back to them both and laced his fingers together at the back of his head. Standing like that, with both elbows out, he said, "Okay."

* * *

Burress was waiting in interrogation. When Bobby walked in, he recognized him from Nantucket. He chuckled. "Hey," Burress said in greeting.

Bobby shook his head a little and sat down across from him.

Burress sized him up. "So you're it, huh? They rolled out the big gun."

Bobby almost spoke, but then thought better of it. He unfolded his Binder and laid out his notes in front of him. "Yeah," Goren said.

"What is all this?"

"Oh, well, this is your life." Bobby held the evidence bag containing the wallet in the air. "This was a present?" he asked.

"Christmas," Burress said, looking at the wallet with tired eyes. "You didn't find the card?"

Bobby gaped a moment. "But… you didn't wanna… know the guy, so why give him a present?" There was a touch of resentfulness in his voice. Bobby couldn't quite help himself. The man before him was Brady, William, and Frank Goren all rolled into one.

"Listen, I had it good, he didn't."

Frank's voice flashed through Bobby's mind. _What have you done for me, Bobby? You gave me a coat, you slipped me a couple of bucks? So you can feel good about yourself?_

Mentally, he shook the memory away. "Is that because he punished himself over what he did to you, or…"

"Listen, he was six, okay? I blame people like you, not him."

Goren nodded. He reached down and bent the top of a file upwards. "Says here, 'I couldn't see it happening again, see her burning him…' That's you, right?"

Tommy Burress folded his hands behind his head and leaned back, his eyes shut. "I paid that debt," he said, stretching his neck and never opening his eyes.

"You were, like, around ten, right?"

"I… what does it matter, huh?"

"Well… then it was reform schools, foster families… rejecting you." Bobby looked up from the paperwork. "Who wants some matricidal delinquent, right?" He had the hint of a smile in his eyes when he said it.

"Yeah, you hear me complaining?" Tommy smiled, too.

"No." Bobby paused, and drew in a breath. "But… you found a solution in your mother's illness." He said no more, just let that comment fester a moment.

Tommy's face became pained. He squinted his eyes. "My mother was, uh… sh-she was schizophrenic, all right? There's no solutions in that."

"Well, the delusions of grandeur, and a florid state in which you were a noble." Goren shrugged. "Count Haugwitz. Das was du? Nicht War?"

Burress stared at him. "Das war ich, genau." _That's right that was me._ "What, now you're my shrink?" He laughed. "You know what I'm gonna do? I'm gonna, I'm gonna use this session. I'll credit you… when I beat my rap on an insanity plea."

Bobby's face was expressionless. His head bobbed slightly as he stared at the killer in front of him. Bobby opened his hands and closed them again, turning his head away. He picked up the remote for the video player. "I want to just show you," Goren said. He pushed play, and Tommy saw his ten-year-old self on the screen.

"I couldn't see it happening again, see her burning him." Goren paused the tape, and Tommy stared at himself, a mirror in time. Real pain washed over his face.

"I have these pictures of you here as a young noble… with your mother." Goren got the pictures out and laid them before him.

Burress picked them up and studied them. He hadn't seen those photos in twenty years. He gave Goren a shrewd stare. "And that's your brother, there," Bobby said, pointing out the picture with a very sad Anthony in it. "I guess he wasn't part of it," Bobby commented.

"Not part of what?" Burress asked.

"The delusion that you and your mother… shared. Which was more… painful? Her death… or his betrayal?"

_Who are you gonna miss more? Nicole? Or your brother?_

It hurt to throw out such an awful question, but Burress' face reddened and Bobby knew he'd broken through.

"Uh, I don't, uh… I don't distinguish between… between them."

Bobby nodded. "You remember killing her, right?" Bobby pushed play.

"Water was spilling over the sides of the tub," young Tommy said. "The hot water had run out. It was cold, so she had the heater on."

"Excellent attention to detail," Goren noted. He stopped the video again. "Now… you were barefoot?"

Tommy rolled his eyes, then shut them. "I don't remember."

"No, it's just that you said that your feet were cold, so you must have been barefoot."

"It's history, you know?" He threw his hands up and looked away. "Who cares?"

"You should care. It's made you who you are." Bobby pulled an old crime scene photo out of his binder. "Picture here of the heater. Now, it's… plugged in above her, so you would have had to walk through the water to reach the heater."

The photo showed more than just the heater. It showed his mother's dead body. He looked away, raised his voice, and smacked his hand against the table. "What?! What's this about?!" He kept his head down. He didn't want to see anything more. He got to his feet and walked to the wall, his back to Goren. "What, I don't—I admitted to killing her, right?" He said, turning back. "I did it!"

Bobby remained calm. "If you walked across the water and touched the heater, you'd be dead, or gotten severely shocked." He paused. "I don't think that you touched the heater." Bobby paused again. "I think that that's your brother's lie." He eyed Burress, who hung his head. "I think that you thought about it, watching your mother in the bath for hours every day. Just… throw the heater in the tub." Bobby waited. Burress made eye contact. "But you didn't do it."

Tommy nodded and stepped back to the table. "Yeah," he said quietly. He flipped all of the pictures of his dead mother over so he didn't have to see them. "She flew into a rage because she wanted to put Anthony in the shower to wipe away the places that she burned him. All right, her arm hit the cord, and…" Tommy shook his head sincerely. This was the truth.

"And then you paid for it," Goren added. "And when he came back, you were going to pay for it again."

"No, no! Anthony was-was a part of someone that I no longer wanted to be, okay?"

_If I hear that you're on a bridge, ready to jump, I'll listen for the splash._

"That's why I avoided him."

"So you don't think that he got back into your life to destroy what you'd become?"

"Oh, listen, your little psycho chatter babble isn't working, all right?!" Tommy waggled his hand in the air as he said it. He sat back down in the chair. "Anthony was a failure. He was tyranny of the weak! But I didn't kill him!" Tommy screamed, pounding his fist on the table.

Bobby nodded, gave him time to cool down. "Well… so that's what he's become… tyranny of the weak." Goren stared at him, with all the truths of his own childhood behind him. "Isn't he all you had… in the world… when the two of you were little boys comforting each other from that nightmare… of a mother?"

Goren found some more old photos. "Look at those," he said, and he almost smiled. "I think you're teaching him how to swim." He showed the pictures to Burress. "See, he trusts you." He waited a moment, and let Tommy get a good long look at the picture. "Did he still trust you like that?"

Bobby leaned back. "You know, it wouldn't be fair if I… I didn't show you this." He held a few pages in his hands.

Tommy looked and rolled his head back when he realized what it was. "It's the autopsy report," he said. He took the pages from Goren and dropped them onto the table top.

Bobby pointed with his pen. "You should read it." Tommy had a pained look on his face as he scanned the report. "He only had a… few months at the most." Bobby waited a moment. "I don't think that… Anthony came back to destroy your life. I think he came back for atonement… for forgiveness."

Tommy read about the lymphoma, and he gaped sadly at the pages.

"…for what he'd done to you," Bobby finished. Tommy turned his head, his eyes still gripped by the words on the page. "If you look at the photo here," Goren said, "He's… reaching out for you. He trusted you. He loved you. I-I think that's why he-he came back. To ask for that forgiveness."

Tommy Burress closed his eyes and pressed his fingertips to his head. "No," he said. He shook his head and licked his lips. "He loved me," Tommy agreed, nodding his head.

"And did you feel that before you…" Goren watched as the man was slowly overcome with emotion. Tommy lifted his head, then dropped it back to his hand. He nodded. "Yes." He continued to nod in silence, and Goren knew he had him.

Quietly, he led him through the process of making a full confession.

When the confession was complete and signed, the uniforms led Tommy Burress back to holding. Bobby stretched, but did not get out of the chair. He stared at the cinder block wall before him, finally allowing his brain to process the random thoughts and memories that had assaulted him during the interrogation.

It was like being on both sides of the table at once. It was like being both the hunter and the prey.

"Bobby?"

He closed his eyes with a small sigh. Eames' voice was like a balm sometimes. "Yeah," he answered.

"I'll take you home," she offered.

He pressed his lips together, and then looked into her warm, kind eyes. "Yeah," he repeated.


	25. Chapter 25

Chapter 25

"You did a really good job in there, Bobby. I don't think anybody else could have done it."

"Yeah," he said quietly. "Me either." He gave her a knowing glance, and she reached out for his hand.

Alex wondered if maybe he was finally going to talk about it. She parked a block from his place, and she saw him stretch when he rose up out of the vehicle.

She put her hand around his waist and they walked back to his building. Bobby invited her in with a shrug, and she followed willingly. "It isn't," he started, "I haven't had a chance to clean."

She just stared at him and grinned. "You're kidding, right?"

With a smile, he bent his head down and shook it. Alex made herself comfortable at his kitchen table, hanging her purse off a chair while he emptied his pockets in all the usual places.

"You wanna talk about it?" She asked tentatively.

He shrugged, but he joined her at the table. "Some of the time," he said, "I felt like I was talking to my brother. Like I finally got to tell him…"

Just when Alex was eagerly anticipating more, Bobby stopped talking. He rubbed the back of his neck, then picked up her hand and played with her fingers. "I loved him, you know?"

She nodded. "Of course."

"I never forgave him, for what he did… for what he didn't do…for all of it."

She frowned.

"I wanted to forgive him. I think maybe tonight I did."

Alex's frowned flipped into a crooked smile. "I think that's good," she said. "I think maybe that's what you needed." She kissed him on the lips and then pulled him into a hug. Bobby buried his nose in her long hair and let his hands roam freely.

* * *

He was up early. He trimmed his scrappy beard and took a quick shower. Bobby saw the sun trying to creep into Alex's eyes, and he adjusted the curtain to give her a little more time to sleep in peace.

He made a pot of coffee and sat down in front of his laptop.

_Dear Kathy,_

_ I got the confession. I had the thought afterward that it was kind of like playing all sides of the table. There was so much about this man and his family that was similar to mine, and there were so many issues I had to ask him to face, that I had never fully faced myself._

_ I think I answered every question I asked of him in my own mind. And I heard myself talking about love and trust and forgiveness. And I don't know, I think something changed in me._

_ I've spent all this time feeling cheated and sorry for myself, and I guess I forgot to feel sorry for them, too. Frank never asked for the kind of life we were given. Or my mother. She was embarrassed by her illness. She would talk about it sometimes, in treatment. She said they treated her differently when they read the word "schizophrenic" in her chart. No, given a choice, she wouldn't have chosen the life she had._

_ Declan asked me, when I had him in interrogation, if I thought it was all my fault. I told him I'd thought that, and he said it wasn't. He said I did everything I could for them, and more, but they failed me._

_ But they didn't fail, either. Mom, and Frankie, they were just doing the best they could, too._

_ I guess none of us really has a choice, not unless we're of sound mind and body and of a certain age… _

_ I have a nephew, Donny. Frank's son. I don't know where he is right now. He was serving a year on a trumped up charge and escaped prison. He's on the run, now._

_ I have him, and I have you and your family. That's all the family I have left. And then there's Alex. That's Eames. She's my closest friend, did I tell you that?_

_ It was tough, this case. But I'm happy now. I'm feeling like I'm not so alone anymore._

_ Have a good day, Kathy. Thanks for everything._

_ Love,_

_ Bobby_

He hit "send" and he sat back in the chair to sip his coffee. He'd wanted to tell her more about Alex, but email wasn't the most private thing in the world. He couldn't take a chance that someone on the Force would find out about them. Friendship was fine, but to talk about more than that would be to jeopardize everything.

Maybe he would visit Kathy again in person. Maybe she could come to New York, and meet Eames face to face. Bobby caught a glimpse of the clock and got to his feet. He walked back to the bedroom to wake up Alex.

She was still naked from the night before, and had burrowed into the mound of sheets and blankets to keep warm. Bobby sat gently beside her and stroked her hair with his hand.

Alex stretched and rolled, and his hand slid to her neck and shoulder.

"Good morning," he said softly.

"Mmmm…" Alex smiled, but she didn't open her eyes.

"I was going to cook you breakfast," he said, still caressing her.

Alex opened one eye to peek at him.

"Are you hungry?"

She smiled and pulled one hand out of the covers. She wagged her index finger, beckoning him closer. "Hungry for something," she said happily, and kissed his neck.

Bobby smiled, a broad smile that showed all of his teeth. He bent down and kissed her cheek, and both of her hands poked out of her cocoon to wrap around his neck.

The blankets slipped down, and he saw her bare torso. Bobby's hands were on her.

Alex was self-conscious about her morning breath, and she avoided kissing his lips. She turned her head, giving him access to her soft neck, and she pressed her lips against his collarbone.

"Ohhhhh," Bobby groaned as he nuzzled against her. "Alex, I…" Painfully, he forced himself away from her. "I'm hungry. Really hungry."

Alex sighed. "Oh."

He stole a kiss at her lips and smiled. "I'll meet you in the kitchen. Coffee and eggs, ten minutes."

Alex raised her hand to cup his cheek, with pure affection in her eyes. "Deal," she said, and Bobby got to his feet. He lingered long enough to scan her naked body with his eyes, and then left the room.

She came out after a shower, dressed and ready for work, except for the makeup. Alex wasn't self-conscious anymore. She took Bobby by the chin and gave him a deep kiss, distracting him from the pan on the stove.

He had a hard time pulling away from her, but he managed to move the pan of eggs just before they would have burned. He turned off the burner and turned to kiss her again, a boyish grin on his face.

"You're happy this morning," she smiled back at him.

"You're beautiful," he said, still finding his lips drawn to hers.

"We don't have time," she protested, and he moved her hand to his groin. She pulsed with desire, and caressed him there, but forced herself to pull away. "Bobby," she protested.

"It's just paperwork," he said. "It can wait."

"We'll catch a new case."

"Only if we're there. Nichols and Wheeler will get the next one." Every time he spoke, he moved in again and overwhelmed her with his hands and his kisses.

"The eggs are getting cold," she said.

"I'll buy you a donut." His hand slid into her pants, and she lost the argument.

* * *

At ten a.m., Alex was already filling out forms when an entire box of donuts was placed on her desk. She looked up at him and smiled.

Bobby grinned and handed her a napkin so she could make her selection. Then he chose one, too, and closed the lid of the box. He sat down and took a bite of his, then leaned over and took the report off her desk. He read it over while he ate.

They saw Ross walking briskly through the bullpen with a file folder in his hand. He went right past them and dropped the file on Wheeler's desk, briefing them on their new case. Bobby glanced over at Alex and smirked.

She gave him a knowing look and licked some icing off the side of her thumb, unwittingly teasing him. His expression changed, and he tried hard to suppress his longing.

* * *

A/N Thanks to all of you who have been reviewing. I find reading the reviews to be very motivating when I'm writing, and sometimes I get ideas from your reviews, as well, either for the current story or for a future one. And I do pretty much write as I go with my stories, so what you have to say could very well shape the story! Please take the time to tell me what you think!


	26. Chapter 26

Chapter 26

"Theres a dinner at my sister's place. Dad's birthday. It's really on Monday, but nobody can get together then, so Friday night is it."

"I, uh… I have an appointment," Bobby said.

Although Eames nodded, she frowned just enough. She wondered if he was just avoiding her family. Then she wondered if maybe he was finally going to get some therapy. "Your appointment, is it, uh…?"

"Just my annual physical," Bobby told her. He'd seen her reaction. He knew she was bothered. "Look, uh, I can call when they're done with me, and you know, maybe meet you over there later."

Alex's face softened. "All right, that sounds good."

* * *

"Well, you've put on quite a bit of weight since the last time I saw you."

Bobby chewed on his cheek and said nothing.

"You have a history of heart disease in your family?" The Doctor was reading something from his file.

Bobby was surprised by the question. "Uh, no, uh, I mean I thought that, but… I recently found out that William Goren wasn't my biological father, so, uh… I don't really know."

The doctor made a note in the file. "Do you know anything about your biological father?"

Bobby shrugged. "Not really. Not his medical history."

"All right, Mr. Goren. I'll have to get your labs in before I can tell you more for sure. In the meantime, diet and exercise. All this extra weight is making your heart work a lot harder than it has to. You could be setting yourself up for a heart attack. And the extra weight isn't doing your knee any good, either."

"My knee?" His knee had been bothering him, but the doctor hadn't even glanced at it.

"I saw you were favoring it when you came into the lobby today. I'll call you when I get your lab results. Good to see you again, Mr. Goren." The doctor stuck out this hand, and Bobby shook it.

As he walked out and paid his bill, he wondered if he could find out Brady's medical history.

* * *

"Hey," she said into the phone. "How'd it go?"

"Uh, okay. I'm through now, if you want me to come out."

"That would be great, Bobby."

"I'll be there in an hour."

"Pick up some beer on the way," she said, and told him what kind her Dad liked.

* * *

"Bobby, good to see you," Liz greeted him warmly at the door and took one of the bags from his hands. He followed her to the kitchen with the other and set it on the table. Bobby said his hellos, and even Johnny seemed friendly to him.

Alex reached into the bag he'd brought and passed out a round of beers, including one for Bobby. Their eyes met, and he saw her sparkle.

After an hour of friendly conversation, Bobby and Alex wandered away from the group and went outside on Liz's patio. It was cool outside, and there was a storm coming in, but they were both warm from the alcohol. It felt good to escape the heat of the crowded kitchen.

"Was that lightning?" She asked, pointing off in the distance with her brown bottle.

"I missed it," he said, searching the horizon with his eyes.

"So what did the Doctor say?"

"Nothing for sure until he sees my labs. He wants me to lose weight."

"Oh."

"My medical file is all wrong," Bobby said. "You know, because of Brady."

"Oh, Geez, that's right. Do you know anything about him?" They had investigated him, but medical records don't usually come up during an investigation. They knew a lot about his life; residences, jobs… but not if he had high blood pressure or was prone to hernias or something.

Bobby shook his head. "He… you know he seemed healthy."

"Maybe, since you have the report, you can request records. As his son."

Bobby shrugged. He probably could, but he wasn't sure he wanted to. It would mean announcing to the world, again, that his father was a serial killer.

He saw a flash in the distance. "It is lightning," he said, and took a sip of his beer. Alex turned her eyes to the approaching storm. "Your Dad seems happy," Bobby said.

"He's having a really good time tonight. He loves it when we're all together." The wind picked up, and she shivered. Alex scooted closer to Bobby.

"You cold?" he asked.

She gave a shrug.

"We could go in," he suggested.

Instead, Alex leaned against him. "I don't want to go inside," she told him.

Bobby raised his arm and draped it across her shoulders. "Your family… somebody will see," he said quietly.

"We're safe here," she replied. Alex looked up at him, and he slowly bent down to kiss her lips. The wind blew her hair into her face, and he brushed it away with his hand, turning to face her. They kissed again, and then she laid her head against his chest. Bobby held her, sheltering her from the wind. They stayed that way until they heard the door open behind them.

"Oh, uh, sorry, sis," Johnny said.

Bobby let go of her and she turned to her brother. Goren looked away uncomfortably.

"Dad asked me to take him home, so we're gonna be leaving."

"Oh, okay." She turned and gave Bobby's hand a little tug. "We'll come say goodbye," she said, following Johnny back into the house.

* * *

They parted ways when they left, and Bobby found himself alone at his kitchen table. He thought for a long time about things. He thought about Alex, her family, and then he thought about heart attacks and how hard it is to lose weight. And he thought about what a hassle it is to have to rewrite your whole life because your father isn't really your father.

He wasn't tired yet, so he turned on the computer. He had an email from Molly in his inbox.

_Hi Uncle Bobby,_

_ I got the stitches out of my hand. There's a scar there. Mom says it might go away, but Timmy says I'm going to have it forever. If I have it forever I'm going to wear gloves at my wedding._

_ Mom said you were really busy and didn't have time to write me back. She said your job is really stressful and I shouldn't expect to hear from you right away all the time. I'm just glad you didn't get shot._

_ Martin asked Trudy to the prom. Now he's all smiling all the time and Mom keeps trying to tell him what he should wear and he doesn't even seem to care. So weird. Usually he hates when Mom tells him what to do._

_ Here's a picture of my scar. What do you think?_

_ I hope you're not too busy to write me back this time._

_ Love,_

_ Molly_

Goren opened the picture, studied it carefully, and then hit the "reply" button.

_Dear Molly,_

_ It doesn't look too bad to me. I think your Mom is right and it will fade away in time. I don't think you'll need gloves for your wedding._

_ It sounds like Martin thinks Trudy is pretty special. I'll be interested to hear more about the prom._

_ I am in between cases now, so I'm not as stressed. I'm sorry I couldn't get back to you the last time. Please don't worry about me. I've been doing this job a very long time. It's nothing like what you see on TV._

_ How is Marty doing? Did you show him your scar? Maybe he'll feel guilty about it and not run away from his pen anymore._

_ Take care, Molly._

_ Love,_

_ Uncle Bobby_

_ Dear Kathy,_

_ I just sent Molly an email. Her hand looks pretty good. I don't think she'll have much of a scar from it._

_ I went to the doctor today and realized I know nothing about my family's medical history. I'm going to see if I can get access to Brady's medical files. If I do, I'll share them with you._

_ I'm in between cases now. Probably we'll catch a new one in a couple of days. We always catch up on paperwork and trainings and that kind of thing when we're in between. _

_ Did you get your van back from the shop yet? A good friend of mine owns a shop here in the city. He does a pretty good business. His specialty is refurbishing classic cars. I like to go out and help him with those when I have the time. I have a '65 Mustang that I like to tinker with._

_ Well, I just thought I should warn you about the medical thing. Maybe it's not such a big deal for you, since you never thought someone else was your father. Anyway, I'll let you know what I find out._

_ Have a good night, Kathy._

_ Bobby_

Goren sent the email and got up. He was tired, but he was too full of energy to go to bed. On a whim he picked up his phone.

"Hello?"

"Hey," he said, and paced from the kitchen to the bedroom and back.

"What's up?" She asked, and her voice was pleasant and relaxed.

"I, uh, you know, I'm kind of… wound up."

"Can't sleep?"

"Not yet."

"I'm not sure how I can help you with that," she told him.

Bobby smiled. "I hope I didn't, you know… with your family."

"What?"

"Johnny, you know, he saw us."

"Who cares?"

"He had a problem with me before."

"If he has a problem with you, he has a problem with me. Johnny's fine."

"He's very protective of you."

"Are you saying you're scared of him?"

"I don't want them to hate me."

"I love you, Bobby. Maybe Johnny didn't understand at first, but he's coming around. He knows some of what we've been through."

"He doesn't think I'm crazy?"

"Bobby, don't."

Bobby paced the length of his apartment again, and got a little short of breath. "I wish I was with you."

"It's kind of late for that tonight."

"I love you, Alex."

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"You're panting."

"Oh? I am? Oh. No, I'm just… pacing."

She grinned. "Sit down, Bobby."

"W-why?"

"Just do as you're told. Sit down. On your bed."

"You're trying to—"

"Shut up and enjoy it."

Bobby collapsed onto his mattress, the coils bouncing under his weight. "Okay. I'm sitting."

"What are you wearing?"

"You know what I'm wearing. You saw me—"

"Shhh! You're still dressed?"

"Yes."

"Take your shirt off."

He grinned and tucked the phone against one ear and snaked his arm out of his sleeve. Then he switched the phone to the other ear and did the same. "Okay," he said, and quickly yanked the shirt over his head and put the phone back where he could hear her. "It's off."

"Put your hand on your chest."

Bobby took a deep breath, shut his eyes, and did as she said.

"Rub your hand in a slow circle."

"It's not the same," he said. "It's not you."

"Yes it is. Pretend I'm holding your hand, moving it for you. You're my puppet." He was quiet for a moment. "Now. Slide your hand down to your waistband. Did you do it?"

"Yeah," he said.

"You have to tell me when you do it."

"Okay."

"Undo your pants."

"Okay."

"Done?"

"Yeah."

"Lie back. On top of your underwear. Touch yourself."

His breath was a little harder, a little faster.

"Tell me about it."

"It feels good. I wish you were here."

"What would you do to me?"

Again, he smiled. "I'd make you watch this."

She chuckled. "Bobby…" she was half surprised, and half aroused at the thought. "Are you still touching yourself?" she asked.

"Yeah," he whispered.

"If I were there, watching you, I would put my fingers between my legs…" She described more, and his hand moved faster.

"I'm hard as a rock," he panted.

"Take your clothes off," she told him.

As fast as he could, he stripped one-handed. "Okay," he said, his hand moving back to his cock.

"I'd like to taste you," she said. "Just the tip of my tongue."

Bobby groaned. "Alex…"

"Jerk off for me."

Without another thought, he did as she said. "Oh, yeah," he breathed.

"I'd suck you hard," she whispered, and he was surprised to hear her heavy breath, too.

"What are you doing?" he managed to ask.

"I'm imagining you inside me."

He groaned again.

"Faster, Bobby."

"Ohhhh…"

"Harder!"

"God!"

"Fuck me, Bobby!"

"God, Alex!" He whimpered and gasped and came all over his hand. Bobby panted heavily against the phone, and finally moaned with satisfaction. He listened while she pleased herself on the other end of the line, whispering encouragement into the phone as her gasps came harder.

"I love you," Bobby whispered. "You're beautiful. I want you. I want you to come, Alex. Come for me, baby," he said. He could tell from her cries when she was finished, and he kept whispering in her ear. "I love you, baby. I love you."


	27. Chapter 27

Chapter 27

Alex felt the cool sheet over her bare skin and sighed happily. Then she reached out her hand and was met with the realization that she was alone.

It came back to her quickly, the fact that they hadn't shared a bed the night before and how they'd managed the separation. She got up and walked to the shower with a smile.

Alex thought about what Bobby had said about his checkup. She knew he needed to lose the weight, but she hadn't said anything. Since Frank died, Bobby's mental health had been the priority. He had to do whatever he had to do to get into a good place.

And though he'd put on the pounds, he was so much better. She smiled every time she saw a hint of the old Bobby: Whenever he came up with a new approach to a case, something so out of the box no one but Bobby Goren could have gone there; whenever he stepped in a little too far and ticked off Elizabeth Rodgers; whenever he stumped Ross with a witty remark.

And with every glimpse of his old self, Alex Eames fell a little more in love with him.

* * *

"Bobby!" Lewis shouted cheerfully and walked out of his cramped office to give his friend a hug.

Bobby grinned. He hugged Lewis and clapped his shoulders. "Hey," he said.

"What brings you around?"

Bobby shrugged. "Got the day off. I thought I'd come see what you have to play with."

Lewis smiled. "Come on back, I'll show you."

They walked through the shop, and Lewis pointed out the most interesting of the cars he was working on. The mechanics who worked for him hustled and shouted out to each other when they needed to. Lewis walked Bobby out of the first garage and into the second, where he stored the classic cars until their owners could come for them.

Bobby whistled. "Sweet." He scanned each one from where he stood, and then he walked to the blue car in the back. "Is this a '67?"

"Yup."

Bobby ran his fingers along the contours of the old Impala. "My Dad had one of these."

"I remember. Didn't Frank wreck it?"

"Yeah. He was, I don't know, maybe 14 at the time? Somehow we ended up at Dad's place for the weekend, and he left, you know, gambling or something. Frank found the keys and he got the big idea to take the car out for a spin. He did okay driving it, but when he tried to park it, he couldn't judge where the front end was. Ran us right into the building. I smacked my head on the dashboard."

Lewis chuckled with Bobby. "Knock any sense into you?"

"Enough not to let Frank drive."

They spent the day together. Bobby even suited up and got his hands dirty on an old Ford Thunderbird that needed new brakes. When the day was over, they went out for a drink.

"How's Detective Alex?"

"Good, great."

"You still…?"

Bobby nodded inside a shrug. "Yeah, you know."

"I'm glad, Bobby. She's good for you, you know?"

He chewed on his bottom lip, but he nodded. If there was one thing that Bobby knew, it was that Alex was the best thing that had ever happened to him, even before they were lovers.

"What about that other cop, the one that left?"

"Logan?"

"Yeah, whatever happened to him?"

"I haven't seen him in a while. He started his own business as a P.I. I guess it's keeping him busy."

* * *

He met her for dinner. Another storm was coming in, and the wind was frigid enough for overcoats. Bobby helped her out of hers, and they laid them over the seat. He was surprised when she decided to sit beside him rather than across from him.

"Good day?" She asked.

"Yeah," he replied. "I spent the day at the shop with Lewis."

"Anything worth drooling over?"

"There was a sweet Impala, a '67. Midnight blue. Really nice."

"Sounds like fun."

"How about you?"

"Nothing exciting. Laundry, groceries, a little housekeeping."

The waitress came and they placed their orders. Bobby ordered a salad, not his usual thing.

"Have you heard from Logan?"

"Logan, why?"

"Lewis was asking about him."

"Well, I haven't seen him or anything, but Wheeler said he took her out for dinner last week."

"He took Wheeler out?"

"He feels bad about that whole mess with her ex."

"Yeah, but he never—"

"Oh, you know Mike. He's a lot nicer than he lets on. He took her to dinner and asked her about a thousand times if she was prepared for the whole baby thing."

"Is she?"

"Yeah. She has her sister to help her. And she's almost all decked out with the baby supplies. She said she ordered a crib online."

They continued their conversation as they ate. Bobby finished his salad and seemed disappointed. Alex's meal came with a side of garlic bread. He pointed to it and asked, "Are you gonna eat that?"

"No, go ahead," she told him.

Bobby finished off all of her bread and seemed a little more satisfied.

"You're trying to change your diet?" Alex asked.

"I have to, right? Doctor's orders."

"I don't think you should be so drastic about it. Maybe just eat a little less at first. If you switch to nothing but salad all of a sudden, you're going to think you're hungry all the time, and then you'll be more likely to snack."

He listened, but he was irritated by her input. "Look, I, uh, I'll do fine, okay?"

"Okay. I was just—"

"I know what you were just—I don't want any help with it, okay, Eames? It's my problem and I have to—"

"It's okay, Bobby. I won't say another word." She could see how upset he'd gotten. They finished the last of their drinks, and Bobby paid their check.

She gave him a hug out on the sidewalk, and he was self-conscious about his weight. Bobby pulled away. "I, uh, I'll talk to you tomorrow, Alex. Sorry I got so upset."

"Maybe we can hit the museum. We haven't been there in a long time."

Bobby shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe." He frowned, and leaned forward to give her a chaste kiss on the lips. "Good night, Alex."

"I love you, Bobby."

"You too," he said as he turned and walked away.


	28. Alpha Dog

Chapter 28

Bobby lay awake half the night, wondering how he was going to lose the weight. He knew food alone wasn't the answer. He was going to have to exercise. The question really was what, how and when.

There was a gym at 1PP, but Bobby wasn't so sure he wanted to work out in front of his coworkers. He'd been down there a few times looking for Alex, and most of the time it was filled with all the people who were already in shape.

He could join a gym somewhere in the city, but he wasn't sure he would have the self-discipline to go regularly. And frankly, the way the job went, he wasn't likely to go regularly at all. Then there was the money. He was slowly recovering from his debt, but he wasn't in the kind of shape to take on another major monthly bill.

He could run, or come up with some kind of workout regimen at home. The stairs in his building could be a good place to start. Bobby finally went to sleep, determined to start using the stairs the very next day.

* * *

"So… you and Bobby…"

"I'm not going to kiss and tell, Liz, so you can just drop it."

Liz laughed. "I just know what Johnny told me. How long this time?"

"Does it matter anymore?"

"No, I guess not. If you keep falling together, you must be meant for each other."

Alex pondered that. "You really think that's what we're doing?"

"Alex, it's been over two years."

"But all the circumstances. The crazy drama of it—"

"Maybe it helped bring you together, but it doesn't mean that's the only reason you're together." Liz put her dishes back in the cabinet as they spoke. "You love him, right?"

"Well yeah, I do, but—"

"And he loves you."

"Yes."

"And both of you keep trying to stop it, to say it's a bad idea, that your feelings aren't true… and yet you end up together again. Every. Time."

Alex rubbed her eyes and sighed. "Look, let's change the subject, okay? I don't really want to think about Bobby right now."

"Why? Is something wrong?"

"When is something not wrong between us?"

"Okay, like what?"

"You're not changing the subject."

"No, I'm not. So what's wrong now?"

"Oh, I really shouldn't talk about it."

"Alex."

"He was told he has to lose some weight and I offered some suggestions and now he's a little upset with me."

"Sounds like an old married couple."

"Okay, uhm, how is that supposed to be helping me?"

"You guys are both experts at making mountains out of mole hills. So he's got a few extra pounds, right? You don't care. You love him anyway he comes. So he'll realize that and he'll get over it. If I had a dollar for every fight Terry and I have had about something stupid like that… it doesn't mean it's the end of anything."

"I know that, but what if he doesn't?"

"Alex, he's stuck by you for years now. I'm pretty sure he knows it, too. Somewhere. Deep down. He knows."

* * *

Bobby had barely landed in his desk chair when Ross handed him a case. "Where's your partner?"

"I'll call her," Bobby said. He got up and pulled on his suit coat. He dialed Alex in the elevator, and she met him on the sidewalk outside the dead man's apartment.

"Morning," he said as she walked over.

"Good morning." Alex looked up at the high-rise. "I guess no coffee and Danish for me this morning, eh?"

Bobby gave her a hint of a smile. "I'll make it up to you sometime."

They displayed their shields and went up the elevator to the apartment, which was bustling with activity. The CSU team was scouring the place and taking pictures, and M.E. Rodgers was in the bedroom with the man's dead body. The detectives kept their coats on.

"Detectives, this is Teru Kato, he was Hamp Trotter's personal trainer."

They shook hands with him and introduced themselves. "And you were the one who… discovered the body?" Alex asked. Bobby wandered around behind Teru, checking the label on a bottle of scotch he'd never be able to afford.

"Yeah. I show up with coffee the same time every day. Hamp loved to work out, even if he hadn't slept. He loved his Pilates. He'd hurt his back doing weights. His color… was how I knew…"

Goren stuck his hands in his pockets and wandered the room, listening carefully to the man speaking even as he catalogued everything he saw in his mind.

"He was dead," Alex finished for Teru with a nod.

Bobby walked closer to them and gave Teru a stare as the man spoke again. "I called 911 and they got here in minutes. Oh my God… It was less than two hours ago that I walked in, thinking that he was alive."

Bobby walked off in the direction of the bathroom. Detective Rivera gestured to the sink. "Oh, hey, no drugs. I already checked." Goren said nothing, but gave the man a good long look so he knew he'd been heard. Then he checked the bathroom for himself.

"When you found the door open, you didn't think anything was wrong?" Eames asked.

"No, no… Hamp bought this building not too long ago. He's got offices on the floors below? People, they'd come and go all the time."

"What kind of offices?"

"His film projects, music business, charity work."

Bobby had finally made the rounds to the bedroom, where the man's body was still sprawled on the floor at the foot of the bed. His head and arm were resting on the mattress, the rest of his body stretching down to the floor.

"Any thoughts on his cause of death?" Goren asked the M.E. as he kneeled down beside the corpse.

"Well, barring a medical anomaly, I'd guess it's an overdose," she replied.

Bobby lit his flashlight and peeked behind the man's upper eyelid. "I guess you've noticed the petechial hemorrhaging there." Goren stood up and walked behind her as he said it, so he didn't see her roll her eyes in aggravation.

Rodgers nodded heavily. "Suffocation could've resulted from a reflux caused by the drug ingestion," she explained as Goren walked behind her back. Eames joined them in the bedroom.

"Well I didn't smell vomit," Bobby commented, and turned to look at the bricks in the wall and then close the venetian blinds.

Eames read the annoyance in Rodger's facial expression. "I'll hold off on judgment until after I crack his chest," she announced. The medical examiner got up off the floor and walked out of the room, leaving Eames with an amused grin on her face.

"This is memory foam," Goren announced, holding a bedside lamp in one hand and touching the tip of his finger to the mattress with the other.

"The Pilates instructor mentioned he had a bad back."

"You notice the big indentations here," Goren held the lamp out to illuminate the mattress, "maybe made from the knees, and some other ones here?"

"So he wasn't alone," Eames squatted beside the bed. "And apparently he was living up to his reputation." She got back to her feet. "We'll bag everything for semen and fluids." She pointed and told Goren, "Can you light that indentation on the pillow?"

He did as she asked.

"Well it's no Shroud of Turin, but…"

"It's definitely his face," Alex said, giving Bobby a glance. "So either he slept face-down, or someone pushed him into the pillow."

Bobby returned the lamp to the nightstand. "Maybe forced him down hard enough… to suffocate him?" He frowned at her. Bobby's beard was a little thicker today, and she wondered if it was a kind of retaliation for nosing into his business on Saturday night. Goren walked back to the living room and saw Rodgers giving her final instructions to her staff before she left.

He put his hands on his hips and watched Teru milling about near the leather couches. Bobby turned his head. He saw the coffee cup still in the cardboard tray on the table. He reached down and extracted the cup from its spot. He carried it over to Teru. "You, uh… maybe finish your coffee?" He offered the man the cup.

"Thank you," he said.

"That was hot when you arrived here?" Goren asked.

"I, uh… never bring Hamp cold coffee."

"Just seems to be room temperature now."

The man looked away. He knew the detective had discovered something.

"How long have you been here?"

Teru stepped down into the den and sat on the end of the leather divan. "It's been more than two hours since I got here."

"Yeah, maybe four hours ago?" Goren asked, circling behind his partner, who was paying close attention to their conversation.

"So before you called 911?" Alex asked.

"I called Amy… his ex-wife," Teru said, massaging his own neck. "I didn't want her to see it on the news."

"And then Amy cleaned out the drugs?" Bobby asked, jerking his head in the direction of the bathroom.

"Yeah."

They asked a few more questions and then headed back down the stairs. It was still humid out, but there was no sign of rain yet. "We'll go see what she has to say about all of this," Eames told him.

"Yeah."

Alex climbed into the SUV and Bobby joined her.

"I missed you yesterday," she said.

"Yeah, I… I wasn't in a good mood."

"Is everything okay?" she asked, hating the way the question sounded.

"Yeah, of course. Just, God, why does everything have to be such a big deal with you?"

Alex almost snapped back at him, but instead she bit her tongue and frowned at the traffic she was driving through.

"I'm sorry-"

"It's okay." _Just focus on the case,_ Alex told herself.

* * *

A/N Okay, so... much like the beard issue earlier, the scene of Hamp Trotter's demise is also all messed up. One minute, Bobby is wearing gloves, the next he's not. Then he is. Then he's not. So I decided just not to even mention them, because I think we're all smart enough to know that Detective Robert Goren would wear gloves before touching everything (including the dead body) at a crime scene. If you watch the episode again, you'll see it's true!


	29. Chapter 29

Chapter 29

Bobby was telling himself the same thing. He was grumpy as hell, and he didn't mean to take it out on Eames, but somehow she drew it out of him. She parked and they headed for the woman's apartment building. They wouldn't have needed an address. The news of Hamp Trotter's death had already gotten out, and his ex-wife was being staked out by the paparazzi.

Their badges were in full view, but even so, they had to announce their presence and even use their hands to squeeze through the crowd. One of the uniformed officers let them into the building.

Amy Townsend was there with her assistant, doing her best to hide from the media outside. They asked her about the drugs.

"I did it to protect him from a feeding frenzy," she said angrily, and limped past Eames from the kitchen back to the living room.

"Do you have to do this now?" her assistant asked. "She's just lost her husband."

"Husband?" Alex asked. "Wasn't there a bitter divorce?"

"I loved Hamp," Amy said, holding her coffee mug in her hand and throwing a glance in the direction of her assistant. "We were trying for a reconciliation."

Bobby held his overcoat on his forearm and studied her photographs and décor.

"Why did Hamp live in his loft?" Alex asked.

"They were giving each other some space," the female assistant intruded.

"So you played Venefica?" Bobby asked, studying a movie poster on the wall.

"You pronounced it right," Amy said. "The producers wanted to change it."

"Huh?" Alex asked. Usually she could follow along with Bobby's strange tangents, but today, she was off her game. She threw her partner a questioning look, and he explained it for her.

"Ancient Roman women… that were sorceresses." He checked that Alex was catching up. "They killed men by the act of love."

Amy smiled and nodded. "If the audience has your erudition, I'll have a hit," she told him.

"This one here," Bobby said, pointing to another poster, "you're an Olympic skier. When was that?"

"'Extreme Measures'… uhm… three years ago?"

"Oh, that's about the same time you, uh… split with Hamp," Goren looked the woman in the eyes.

"Yes, but our feelings were very strong. We wanted it to work."

"The news said you left the club early. You weren't having fun?" asked Eames.

"My hip was bothering me, so I couldn't dance." She limped back to sit on her couch.

"Yeah, I noticed you have a slight limp," Bobby called out.

"Making 'Extreme Measures,' I fell doing my own stunts. Sometimes… stress… causes it to hurt."

"What was stressful last night?" asked Eames.

"What's between them… is very personal," interrupted the assistant once more.

"So is homicide," said Eames, "and I asked _her_." She pointed to Amy for emphasis.

"Someone murdered Hamp?" asked Townsend, rising to her feet again.

"We're trying to determine that. But removing evidence doesn't help us. In fact, it's a felony."

"I told you why I did it," cried Amy. She seemed visibly upset. She looked to Bobby. "A man that I loved is dead, so I don't have to tolerate this. That's enough," she snarled. She limped away, past Goren and into her bedroom.

* * *

Ross met them at the elevators when they got back. "It's still not officially a homicide, but I had to put on extra people to handle the calls."

"We ran into a paparazzi blockade at Amy's apartment," Eames told him.

"Relative to that," said Ross, "her manager called complaining that my detectives were aggressive with a grieving widow."

"Does 'widow' apply if they were divorced?"

"What if they started rumors of reconciliation to promote her new film?" Goren asked.

"Three years ago, she was a rising star, he was the unknown male model who married her. Amazing how a set of abs and some luck can turn things around."

"I would imagine some enemies come with sudden fame," tossed out Eames. Goren gave her a glance. "Who did Hamp climb over to get to the top?"

"Hamp actually had a reputation for being a decent guy," Goren said. He continued while the Captain picked up his phone. "He was generous, he embraced good causes."

"He also embraced any woman who got close enough for a smell test. Opens some doors for motive." Bobby nodded his head once. Whether he agreed or not, her theory was reasonable. As she finished speaking, he looked her way.

"We'll be right down," Ross said into the phone. "Rodgers is ready for us downstairs," he told his detectives. The three of them retraced their path back through the bullpen and into the elevator.

"We've already had security issues," Rodgers said as she led them to the room which held Trotter's body. "I caught one of our transfer people trying to take photos of that which made him legendary."

Ross followed at her heels, reading over her preliminary report while Alex and Bobby followed behind. "They could definitely ignite a bidding frenzy on eBay," the Captain said.

"Very tastefully stated, Captain," Rodgers said, amused with his humor. She leaned against the counter. "Now, cause of death. Detective Goren, once again, has an irritating way of being right."

When he heard his name, Bobby tilted his head and bounced in anticipation. He didn't comment on her little dig. "He suffocated?"

Rodgers nodded. "No internal bruising on his throat, no ligature marks, but fingertip bruises on his neck and lower scalp within the hairline."

"His face was forced into the pillow."

"He's a big, strong, guy," Eames said, her arms folded across her chest. "There were no signs of a struggle."

"Well, with what he had in his system, he could best be described as totally malleable." The M.E. produced a piece of paper for them to look at. "Sinuses had residue of cocaine and substantial amounts of OxyContin."

Goren and Eames both bent their heads over the document. "Well, OxyContin is a time-release pill," Bobby said. "When it's ground and inhaled, it has an immediate effect." He'd run across that in his days at narcotics.

Rodgers nodded. "Mmm-hmmm, somnolence, bradycardia. The drug alone could have killed him."

"It's usually used for long-term pain management," Bobby added.

"So it could have been a woman with a limp," said Eames.

* * *

Alex hung up the phone. "Amy's not coming without her lawyer. She said they can be here at 1:00."

"I'm gonna… dig into Hamp's life a little, find out who was in his social circle."

Alex was a little disappointed. She was hoping they could have lunch together, but now it was out of the question. Bobby was going to bury himself in research, which was good for the case, but bad for resolving unspoken issues. "Okay. I'll do the same with Amy."

Bobby didn't even stay at his desk. He printed a lot of information and took it to an interview room to study it, leaving Alex alone in the bullpen. She caught Wheeler walking by. "Hey, you have time for lunch?"

"As long as it's a quick one," Megan said. "I have to meet Zach at 12:45 down at the morgue."

"Works for me," Eames said. She gathered a few things and the two women went to lunch.

* * *

There was only one conference room free, the one they used to monitor the status of cases. The walls were busy with squad information, but the table and chairs were clear.

Bobby opened the door for Amy and her lawyer. "I see your… hip must be… feeling better. You're not limping," he said as Alex shut the door.

Townsend spoke as she sat down. "Yes. It's fine."

Bobby sat down and opened his binder before them while Alex stood guard near the door, her arms folded across her chest. "I'm curious," Bobby said, "what medications do you use for the pain?"

Townsend looked at her lawyer, who spoke for her. "Uh, without immunity, my client won't respond to that."

"Well, I don't think immunity's in her best interest," Bobby said, throwing a frown at the woman.

"I'll decide if it's her best interest," said the lawyer. "She's not risking a narcotics charge, or…"

"She'll be risking more than that if word of immunity gets to the tabloids," Goren warned.

"The media will try her for Hamp's murder," said Alex, coming around to Bobby's side of the table.

"Wait, you don't think that I killed him," said Amy.

"You went to his loft and removed evidence." Alex sat down beside Bobby. "It's an odd reaction when you hear somebody you supposedly love is dead."

"Well I also cried," Townsend told her. "It tore my heart out to see him like that. I never would have killed him! I loved him!"

Alex sat back and looked away. "We hear that every day, Amy."

"If I had killed Hamp, I would have taken the drugs at the time. There's no way I would have gone back."

"That's a good point," said Goren.

"Yeah, well, I've played a murderer so I know how they think."

Bobby laughed. A real laugh, more than just a chuckle. After all of his years of study and experience learning how to profile criminals, it was comical to hear that an actress could do it based on playing a killer once. "We're not after… uh, narcotics charges here. We just want to know if OxyContin was one of the drugs you removed."

She glanced at her lawyer, who nodded. Amy nodded at the detectives. "Yeah, along with coke and some hash. The Oxy bottle was my prescription. I gave it to Hamp along with a lecture. I think he heard me."

"Why do you say that?" asked Eames.

"Well, the bottle had its full pill count. If he overdosed on Oxy, it was someone else that gave it to him."

"Your hip began hurting you at the party. What caused that?" Goren asked.

The woman shrugged. "I had… seen her before at Pastiche. She was with Hamp. I knew he had her and that he wanted her again. So it was time to limp on home."

"Who is 'she?'"

She shrugged. "Dark hair, beautiful… They're always beautiful."

Alex spoke this time. "One notices details about the other woman. Clothes, hairstyle."

"Black dress to accentuate white skin and a great body… she had canary diamonds. You know, at Pastiche she was wearing emerald studs. An earring whore."

* * *

The next stop was the club. It was drawing closer to happy hour, and the place was bound to have a skeleton crew on, getting it prepped for the night's business.

Bobby was very quiet in the car. He'd been that way all day, really. There was so much that Alex wanted to talk to him about, but she sensed that this was the wrong time. So she stayed quiet, too. They piled out and walked inside, straight to the bartender.

They introduced themselves and gave him a description of the mystery woman Hamp Trotter had been interested in. "Beautiful, big diamonds, and hot for the Hamp?" the man said. "At that party, the only woman not coming on to him was that corner bed. All lesbians," he explained.

Goren was leaning against the bar as if he was waiting for his drink. Alex craned her head to see the bed and then turned back to him. "You talk like you knew him," she said.

"Since back when Amy paid his bar bills. He didn't come in here for a while after the thing with Duke. You know?"

"Duke DeGuerin?" Goren asked. The name had come up in his research on Hamp.

"You don't read Page Six," said the bartender. "They nearly had a punch-up. I escorted Hamp out."

"What started the fight?" inquired Alex.

"I don't know. I saw Tommy Morgan talking with the Duke. He might know. Whatever it was, he settled it down."

"Tommy Morgan?"

"Theater director. He and Hamp were tight."

* * *

"I'm shocked, you know?" Morgan said. They'd headed straight to the theater from the club. "The guy had it all. It's unbelievable."

"You spent a lot of time with him?"

"Yeah." He sat in a chair just in front of the detectives and turned back so he could talk with them. "Hamp loved sharing the love, you know? He'd take us all to Iceland for some wild party on a cologne company jet." The guy allowed himself a smile at the memory.

"You were with him at Laxos when he got in a fight with Duke Deguerin?" Bobby asked.

"The Post called it a fight. It was more like a shoving match. Hamp wasn't a fighter."

"What started it?" asked Eames.

"I think it goes back to the bike race in the park… We were getting ready to ride, and Duke DeGuerin, he comes walking up wearing Lycra shorts and a Lycra t-shirt. Some people shouldn't be wearing Lycra…"

Goren looked down at his feet for a moment.

"And Hamp loved busting balls, so he yells, 'Hey! Remind me never to get old!'" The man paused in his story. "And Deguerin went ballistic. I mean, his wife and security people had to hold him back."

"And then Hamp saw him again at Laxos?" Eames clarified.

"Yeah. DeGuerin claimed that Hamp made some remark to his wife. He swung, Hamp shoved, and then it was over… I told Hamp he was lucky."

Bobby perked up at this remark. "Why lucky?"

"This actor I worked with, he was at Duke DeGuerin's table one night. All these women were walking up to him saying, 'Hey, great teeth, beautiful smile.' Later that night, this guy gets jumped. He doesn't get robbed, he just… you know. No more beautiful smile."

Bobby looked over at Alex, who seemed a little surprised at the story. They headed to DeGuerin's building next.

"You really think the guy would be so petty? I mean, what's the motive? He wants to be the prettiest one at the table?" Alex asked as they walked along.

"Well, maybe," Goren answered. "It's not as common with men, but you certainly see it at times."

"Sounds like junior high."

Bobby had to smile a little at that. As they walked up, a man coming out of the building called out to Eames. "Alex?"

The detectives turned and walked back. "Hey!" she said, cheerfully.

"How you doing?" He came forward and shook her hand with a warm smile.

"Stash!" she said happily. She laughed. "Stash Bardum, my partner, Robert Goren." Alex gestured to Bobby, who shook the man's hand.

"Hi," Stash said.

"Stash and I used to work out of the 1-9."

Bobby stood by Alex, but a little between the two of them. Even with the coat on, he could tell Stash was thin and muscular.

"Yeah, yeah," said Stash with a smile. "I taught her everything she knows," he told Bobby. "So she moves to Major Case, my artieries get clogged in Vice." Goren smiled politely.

"Well, as I recall, you loved it."

"Yeah, well, everything gets old. So… I'm out."

Bobby felt a surge of jealousy go through him. It was so powerful that he forced himself to step back a little, to keep himself from doing something stupid.

"I'm heading up security for Duke DeGuerin." Stash gestured to the high-rise above them. He held out a hand for Goren to shake again. "She's the best, Robert."

Bobby squeezed a little harder than he should have.

"The best," Stash said with a point in Alex's direction. She grinned after him as he hurried away, and Bobby held the door for her to go in.

"You were close to him?" Bobby asked quietly before they met with the man at the information desk.

"Just friends," Alex said, and her smile faded. "He's all right."

Bobby nodded and showed his shield to the man behind the desk and asked to see Duke DeGuerin.

"I'll, uh, I'll see if he's available."

"No, you'll make him available," Eames corrected. A security guard arrived and escorted them upstairs to Duke's suite. The third party presence kept them from discussing anything.

Alex couldn't read Bobby's face. She couldn't tell if he was angry or jealous, or just depressed. And he wasn't giving her a chance to find out. He kept his eye contact to a minimum.

The worst part was that his foul mood seemed to be contagious. Alex sighed heavily and rubbed her eyes before they were introduced to Mr. DeGuerin.


	30. Chapter 30

Chapter 30

"Yeah, sure I remember," Duke said, leading them through his luxurious office suite. "It filled tabloids for a week."

"What started it?" Goren asked.

"His profanity within earshot of my wife. I asked him to knock it off, he didn't, so we crossed swords."

"You haven't seen him since?" asked Eames.

"Only if I look out here," said DeGuerin, stopping to look at Hamp Trotter's naked torso lit up across half the building across the street."

"Your spouse is concerned for the beauty of our city. It spreads pornography with those billboards." He walked over and pulled the curtain far enough to hide Hamp's advertisement. "Okay. My fill of the day."

"So is this arena now going to move ahead?" Goren asked, pointing to a scale model of the venue which was situated on a table.

"At today's memorial service, protestors will praise Hamp and beat up on me. So now is probably not the time."

Alex saw a poster on the wall and read Amy Townsend's signature on it. "'No one does it like the Duke.'" She turned back and jerked a thumb in the direction of the poster. "That's Hamp's wife. You two ever cross swords over this?"

"A friend said, uh, 'let's put money in the film so we can party at Sundance.' She just happened to be in it."

DeGuerin traversed the room until he was face to face with Alex. Bobby followed until he was stopped in his tracks by two bottles of that same high-end scotch whiskey he'd seen at Hamp's apartment.

"No real interest in films," Duke continued.

"As opposed to developing the Isle of Mull?" Goren asked.

"Not Mull, but close," said Duke, turning to face Bobby now. "The Isle of Ely."

Goren turned. There was a large print of the Isle propped on the table next to the scotch. "Right, Ely, yeah," he muttered. "World famous for scotch." He picked up a bottle and gestured with it.

"I bought that distillery."

Goren held up the whiskey high to show Eames. "This stuff is… this is $1000 a bottle." He turned it over quickly in his hand and DeGuerin gently took it from the big man's grasp.

"$2000," the entrepreneur corrected. "But that's my private stock. No longer for sale." He carried the bottle over to his desk.

"Hamp Trotter's on your Christmas list? W-we found two of those bottles in his loft."

DeGuerin was surprised by this news.

"We give 200 bottles a year to employees," his wife told them, walking in from the other room. "Maybe someone regifted them."

"Avia," Duke said, "My darling wife. Avia." He circled around his desk and held out his hand for her. She took it with a smile. He chuckled and turned round to finish the introductions. "These are detectives, uhm, Goblin and, uh… sorry."

"Detective Goren, and I'm Detective Eames." Alex touched Bobby's arm as she corrected him. Bobby only blinked and stared at DeGuerin. "Could we get a list of the people who received it?"

"Yes, find out who regifted my scotch." He turned to his wife. "And then I'll fire them."

Bobby nodded, but he didn't say anything as they went back out to the street.

Alex held the list in her hands. She turned back to him as they came through the door. "There's almost 200 names."

"We know who gave it to Hamp."

"Duke's wife cheats?" Alex asked. "That would make the visit worthwhile."

Bobby was limping again. Alex slowed her pace a little and glanced over him. "What a jackass," she said.

"Huh?"

"Detective Goblin? And uh… sorry?"

Bobby grinned. "He can't hide his true nature. He's the alpha dog. He's got to put everyone in their place."

"That's what you're thinking?"

"Think of it… the fight, the poor actor with the teeth… anybody challenges his… virility, he's got to snap at them."

"Or even fight to the death."

"I don't know, I've never been called Goblin before. They didn't even think of that one in basic training." He gave her an affectionate glance, but she was angry about it. They walked in silence the rest of the way to the SUV.

"Maybe grab a bite, then the memorial?" she asked him.

"Yeah, sounds good."

"Do you care where?"

"No." He said it a little too quickly, and it sounded defensive. "I, uh… I appreciate your, uhm… you know, quick comeback."

"I don't like it when people disrespect you."

Bobby studied her profile, and wrestled with the urge to tuck a loose hair behind her ear. He imagined for a minute that they were just a normal couple, driving out to grab a bite of dinner, and not two cops on the job. He would have stroked her cheek. He would have kissed her at the light.

He bit his lip gently and looked back out at the street in front of them.

"Your knee bothering you?" she asked.

He didn't get mad about it this time. "Yeah. I guess my first workout was a… a little ambitious."

"What's wrong with it, anyway?"

"It just, you know, it gets a little swollen. I put it up, get an ice pack, and it's all right."

She pulled in to park near a little deli. Bobby waited by the car until she came around. He held the door for her as they went in. They ordered sandwiches and sat down to eat them. "Stash said he's head of security for Duke." Alex shook her head. "Small world."

Bobby nodded at her, and found himself ravenous with curiosity. "He recognized you right away. You haven't changed much?"

"Oh, Bobby. I've changed. It's been almost 15 years."

"Still…"

"Longer hair, different color. I don't know. I think I've changed."

"What about him?"

"He used to be shaved bald, but now he's got that close buzz cut. No, he hasn't changed much."

"Pretty strong guy. You ever work out with him?"

"Uh, no." She eyed Bobby, and she knew in her gut what he was thinking. "He was a coworker, Bobby. Like Nichols. I mean, I saw him around, we traded barbs now and then. That's all."

"Okay, okay."

"I never dated him."

"I never thought you did." His eyes met hers. "I'm not jealous."

"Okay."

"Okay." Bobby scratched his head and wadded up the paper around the rest of his sandwich. He would probably regret it later, but for now he didn't have an appetite. The thing was, he was jealous. And he was fighting it mightily. Jealousy was unhealthy. If he and Alex had any kind of a chance, he couldn't allow himself to feel this way.

* * *

The evening's memorial yielded nothing. DeGuerin was right, they praised Hamp and badmouthed him, but the detectives got nothing that would help them with their case.

Alex drove Bobby home, and he surprised her with a kiss before he got out of the car. "Alex, I'm sorry about all the—"

"I know."

He kissed her again, touching her with just the tip of his tongue. He got a smile and said, "I'll bring you a Danish in the morning."

Alex smiled too. "Looking forward to it." Her hand rubbed against his scraggly beard, and she kissed him once more. "Good night, Bobby."

"Good night, Alex."


	31. Chapter 31

Chapter 31

She accepted her coffee and Danish with a smile, and they both got busy with the case. She saw Bobby jump up and hurry over to the printer. Alex got up and followed. For him to hurry like that, it must be something worthwhile.

He collected the sheet from the tray and looked it over. "There's a… memorial rally for Hamp by the people trying to save the neighborhood," he explained, holding the sheet out so she could read it, too. "I think we should attend."

"'To hear local celebrities eulogize him?'" Eames turned her head up at her partner.

"I'm thinking someone special might show up."

She cocked her head in comprehension. "Our beautiful mystery woman. The problem is, how would we know her?"

"We… take someone who does."

Alex nodded.

* * *

They approached the crowd from the back, the two detectives flanking Ms. Townsend and her assistant. The press identified her right away.

"There's Amy Townsend!"

"Amy! This way!"

"Step back!" Eames warned. Both detectives moved a little closer to buffer Amy from the media frenzy.

The woman was speaking through a megaphone. "Hamp knew that Alexander Hamilton walked these cobbles. He knew Dr. Benjamin Rush stayed with his cousins in this house behind me! Hamp knew this because he loved and wanted to preserve what we love."

Bobby put his hands out, deflecting cameramen and other interested parties. Alex sheltered the women as best she could from her side, as well. "This kills any thoughts I had about doing personal security," Eames snarked across to her partner.

Bobby didn't appear to have heard her. "Easy," he warned a reporter, with that left hand out in warning.

The crowd started chanting. "No to the Duke! No to the Duke!"

They were soon surrounded by photographers, holding their cameras high and snapping Hail Mary shots from above their heads and behind their backs. Goren looked around when a hand touched his shoulder, but he stayed focused on protecting Amy.

"There," said her assistant, pointing at the woman in the crowd.

Bobby looked over and saw a redhead with ruby earrings chanting along with the crowd.

"That's her," the woman told Eames. Amy charged forward angrily.

"Hey!" he shouted to her, but she was already out of his reach. The group had no choice but to follow her.

Amy hit the woman hard with her purse. She swung it again, and the woman blocked with her hand and pushed back. Eames pulled Townsend away, and a uniformed officer got between the women, turning the other woman. She hurried away in the crowd. Eames made sure Goren had Amy, and she ran after the mystery woman.

"Get off me!" Townsend snarled at the photographers. Goren escorted her back away from the group.

Eames got bottlenecked in the crowd. "Let me through!" she said. "Police! Let me through!"

Goren went back in, after Eames, but it was too late. The woman was gone. Alex threw up her hands in frustration. They spent a few more minutes looking around, but there was no sign of her. "I guess you got Amy out of here."

"Yeah, she's fine," Bobby said, and they started walking back in the direction of the SUV.

"Damn it."

Goren nodded in agreement. "It wasn't a total loss," he said. "Now we know what she looks like."

Alex gave him a nod. "Let's call it a night. I'll bet the tabloids will have a name for her by morning."

"Yeah, you're probably right."

"Bobby…" Alex started to ask him, but she lost her nerve. Instead of talking to him, she drove past the turn for his neighborhood and went all the way out to her place. Bobby didn't protest.

She parked, and finally glanced his way. "We'll have to go to your place in the morning, so you can get some clean clothes."

Bobby cocked his head and showed her a smile. "Okay."

She led the way to her door. Bobby followed after her, his coat flapping open and his binder in his left hand.

Together, they went inside. Alex shut the door, and Bobby helped her with her coat. Eames returned the favor, hanging his coat beside hers in the closet. She paused long enough to notice that it was heavy with his scent.

He shifted his weight on his feet, but he let Alex make the first move. She took a step forward, touched him on the cheek, then removed her gun and holster, checking the safety as she set them on the end table.

She put her hands on Bobby's belly, and he raised his eyes to the ceiling. He was uncomfortable, but he made no move to stop her.

Alex slipped her hands to his sides, and carefully disarmed him. She checked the safety on his gun and set it next to hers. Then she helped him slip out of his overshirt, and he shrugged out of his shoulder holster.

Now that they were civilians again, Bobby set his hands to rest on her hip bones. They moved together slowly, swaying slightly as if they were dancing. Her hands stroked against his sides, and he let his hands dip and curve over her buttocks.

Alex's face was close enough to his that she could feel his breath on her skin. She reached for him with her lips, and they each captured the other in a kiss. His lips were gentle and deliberate, but his hands grasped her tightly.

When the kiss was broken, his breath was heavy. "I don't know what you see in me," he said.

She kissed him again to shut him up. The last thing she wanted was for him to start on a sad rant like that.

"I'm… I'm so screwed up," he said after that kiss.

"Bobby, stop. Don't." She tried to maintain the passion, trailing her lips up his neck and down his jaw. "I love you." She found his lips again, and he couldn't resist returning her kiss. His hands worked against her behind, and he managed to slide one just between her legs.

"I love you, too, Alex," he said. "I wish I could… God, you're beautiful."

They separated enough to grasp hands.

"Make love to me, Bobby. It's been so long."

"I want to. I want you."

"I want you, too."

"How can you? I'm so…"

"I don't care. I love you. You're everything to me." She pulled his hand lower, forcing him to touch her.

He groaned with desire and his hand started to move. Bobby's tongue dipped into her mouth, and he lost all of his inhibitions.

* * *

"If you could have things the way you… you know, you really want them, what would that be?" They were lying naked in the dark, their pinkies linked, and staring into the darkness above them.

"I'm supposed to say world peace and a cure for cancer."

"Fuck that. Say what you really want, Eames. What would… perfection be for you?"

"Honestly?"

"Yeah."

"I'd just like to lie here with you. Without either one of us veering off course. Just loving each other, straight and true." He didn't say a word, and after a time, she tightened the grip of her pinkie against his. "You're awfully quiet."

"Sounds terrific."

She expected him to start talking about his faults. He tended to do that whenever she expressed her love for him.

Instead, Bobby was quiet. He rolled to his side and smoothed one hand over her body before he finally spoke. "I do love you, Alex. And I never knew I could feel this way… about anyone."

She rolled to face him and took him in a kiss before nestling into his embrace for the night.


	32. Chapter 32

Chapter 32

He was up early. Bobby had already showered and was cooking breakfast when Alex got up and hit the shower herself. After the meal, which was far better than anything Alex would have normally eaten, he watched her put on her makeup. As Alex reached for her necklace, the little cross he'd given her so long ago, his hand was on hers.

"I'll do it," he said. He swiped her hair to one side and she held her head a little to the left as he draped the delicate chain around her neck. The cross fell right into place at the nape of her neck. Bobby pressed his lips against her smooth skin before letting her go. "You look stunning today," he whispered in her ear.

As she got to her feet, her hand found his neck, and she pulled him forward for a kiss. They held each other in an affectionate gaze. "We've got to get to your place."

"All right," Bobby said.

* * *

Ross tossed a copy of the New York Ledger on Eames' desk. There was a full page photo of Amy and the mystery woman fighting. The headline screamed "Bitch! You killed Hamp!"

The Captain was not pleased. "Major Case Squad: the name implies competence and judgment. In what universe does serving Amy Townsend up to the ravenous media fit into either category?"

They had been anticipating this all morning. Bobby was a little nervous. His leg bounced a few times under the table, but he didn't shy away from his Captain. "Well, she served herself up for publicity," he said.

"More importantly," Eames told Ross, "It got us the identity of a person of interest."

"So tabloids now do our work for us?"

"I gotta say, they're effective." Alex pulled out another tabloid and read, "Gallina Ilyanova Richter, 25, born in Brighton Beach." She tossed the article down where Ross could see it. This one's headline read "Caught in a Catfight."

"All right, an ID. Where is she?"

"No current address," Eames said, "But we'll find her."

"She's been in the system," Bobby interjected. "She was booked, but never indicted." He opened a file and showed Ross the woman's mugshot. "Forgery, theft, prostitution. Working name is Galla." He glanced up at Ross. "Do you remember… Jamie… Witzger?"

Ross blinked before he spoke. "King of the high-end call girls, billed himself as… God's own pimp."

Alex spoke up. "He's currently in Riker's awaiting trial on over 100 counts of pandering and extortion."

Bobby nodded and stacked the files again. "Well, Galla is one of his." He looked back at the Captain.

"Let's see if Jamie stays in touch."

* * *

The man's red hair and mustache almost seemed to match the rusty orange of the prison jumpsuit. "I'm way ahead of you," Witzger said. "Way ahead. Yeah, Galla called me about the situation with Hamp."

Alex sat in a chair across from him while Bobby stood in the corner, just off his right shoulder.

"She was terrified."

"Terrified of what?" asked Bobby.

"Well, to start with, she forgot business is always business. She got hung up."

"Hung up on Hamp Trotter?" asked Alex.

"C'mon, the thing was legendary," said Witzger. "Galla told me it rivals my own." He put his hands in his lap, as if ready to whip it out and show them.

"You're living up to our expectations, Jamie," Eames told him.

"Just rockin' with the truth, baby."

Goren pushed off from his perch and paced behind the man, waving his hand in the air as if to get things rolling again. "Anyway, back to Galla, she was terrified, afraid of…?" Goren circled and paused at the end of the table, between Witzger and his partner.

"The deal was, set up Hamp Trotter for a drug bust. You know, just set him up."

"Set him up for who?" Goren asked, circling behind Alex and the rest of the way around the table. He sat down in a chair beside Eames.

"Names?" The man laughed. "I'll talk events, but names could get her killed."

Alex nodded and Bobby's thumbs twitched over his laced fingers.

"Galla was supposed to bang the Hamp, leave him stoned, in the zone, a bunch of drugs. Someone calls the tabloids, ruins his career." Jamie shrugged. "Instead, he ends up dead. Go figure."

"You actually believe that?" Goren asked.

His eyes met Goren's. "She doesn't lie."

Bobby nodded, but Alex spoke next. "If she calls, have her get in touch… before she's grabbed up on murder charges." She pressed her hand against the tabletop as she stood to leave. Bobby was already two paces ahead of her.

* * *

They spent the next day reading newspapers and magazine articles about the bunch of them: Duke, Hamp, Amy, and Galla. Ross stopped by to get an update, sipping from a cup of tea.

"There is nothing in these people's lived that is not noteworthy," Eames told him.

"Anything that brings us closer to having an actual suspect?" Ross asked in his tell-tale monotone.

Eames held up a newspaper. "This helps confirm the motive for Duke DeGuerin."

"Australian tabloid?" Ross asked.

"Yeah, we're thinking that DeGuerin was able to stifle the coverage in the local press." Bobby gestured with his pen in his left hand.

"What were they doing in Melbourne?"

"Meeting of the World Wildlife Fund," replied Alex. "Duke's wife and Hamp Trotter were both major supporters."

"We need to talk to her on her own without her husband," Goren said. "He keeps her pretty close to home."

"She's beautiful, very beautiful." The Captain looked at his detectives. "That kind of beauty requires high maintenance. Maybe you can catch her at her local spa." Ross raised his eyebrows, dropped the tabloid back on Eames' desk, and walked away.

Alex grinned over at Bobby. "We could both use a workout, huh?"

Goren wiped his hand across his mouth and growled quietly, "Not exactly what I had in mind." His fiery eyes met hers, and they both had to dip their heads for a moment, to let the fire die down.

* * *

They posed as a couple. Bobby made a show of paying for Alex's membership, as if it were his special gift to her. She inquired about the amenities, and Bobby stepped onto a treadmill in the back corner where he could keep an eye out for their mark.

He saw Mrs. DeGuerin and nodded his head at Alex, who stepped down off the elliptical machine and tailed the woman to the locker room. Avia stripped down, wrapped in a towel, and headed straight for the sauna. Alex hid herself in a bathroom stall until she saw where DeGuerin was headed. Then she stripped down, too. She put her hair up in a clip and wrapped herself in a flimsy cover-up. Then she pulled on a robe and went into the sauna, too.

Avia DeGuerin was on the top step, with her head resting against the wall, and her eyes closed. She wore a towel around her bust and had another towel draped over her shoulders. It had only been a few minutes, but already she had a good sweat going.

"Mrs. DeGuerin," Eames said quietly, after peeking through the tiny window in the door.

The woman opened her eyes and stared.

"I'm Detective Eames. We met at your husband's offices."

She sighed and scrunched her shoulders in a little, hiding in the towel. "I feel this isn't appropriate," she protested.

Alex stepped further inside. "Because we didn't bring you downtown on a witness warrant?"

"All right," she said. "What do you want?"

"Maybe what you want," said Eames, and she sat down on the bench across from Avia. "Justice for Hamp Trotter."

Avia smiled. "Of course I want that. Everyone does."

"But you knew him. Shared interests." Alex was very quiet. She was speaking of the unspeakable. She had to get Avia to open up, woman to woman. "World Wildlife Fund, Melbourne…"

Mrs. DeGuerin grew sad just at the mention of her personal connection to Hamp. She turned her head away and sighed painfully.

"Your husband is a very proud man. Was he jealous?"

She shook her head and swallowed her tears. "There was nothing to be jealous about."

"Your tears say that's not true."

She adjusted the towel on her shoulders and wiped one eye with her fingers. "It's sweat."

"You continued seeing Hamp… gave him gifts…knowing how your husband felt. We know in the past your husband physically punished people who threatened his—"

"You want me to tell you I think my husband killed Hamp?" She looked at Alex with disdain. "I have to think of myself. Where would I be if I said that?"

"You're afraid," Eames whispered, and the look on the woman's face verified her statement.

"Don't you understand the power he has?"

"It's just money!"

"No. It's what comes with money. Little people like you don't understand it."

Alex took in a breath at the assertion.

Avia dropped the towel from her shoulders. "Once, I didn't understand it." She walked over to retrieve her robe from a hook, turning her back to Eames.

"We can protect you."

The woman slipped on the robe. She sighed. "If I let myself believe that, I'd be risking my life."

"Then you know what he's done."

Avia turned and left without another word. Alex followed, but the woman refused to even acknowledge her in the more public spaces of the health spa.

Eames got dressed and met up with Goren outside the club. His face was a question mark, but her response was a look of aggravation and a shake of her head. "D'you think you can pull everything from evidence?"

He nodded. "Yeah."

"I'll get the paperwork together. We need a case room."

"All right." Back at 1PP, they went their separate ways.

It was getting late when Bobby finally unloaded the box and the bags in the interview room they'd commandeered from the rest of the squad. He stood over them with a yawn and a stretch and saw Alex marching his way, with two thick files in her hands.

Bobby still wanted to know how the conversation with Mrs. DeGuerin had gone. He waited for his partner, wearing the same questioning look he'd had earlier in the day.

She rested the spine of the files on the table and spoke to Bobby. "She suspects him… maybe even knows he did it? But she's too afraid to talk."

Bobby nodded. "The evidence… we could have used to pressure her… the Kennebragh scotch from Hamp's loft, is missing." Bobby said it with a shrug. No wonder it took him so long to get back from evidence. Alex wouldn't have been surprised if he'd searched the shelves personally.

Alex followed Bobby's gaze over to the pile of stuff on the table. "Maybe the bottles weren't brought in?" she suggested, though her expression betrayed what she really thought.

"I listed it myself." He studied the itemized evidence list, and then tossed the papers down on top of his binder.

"Well, it's not a perfect world," she said. "Some scotch-loving cop obviously drank it. But we still have these."

Goren stared at her. At her words, he was back in their perfect moment the night before. He looked away and tried to shake the thoughts away, to get his head back on the case.

"DeGuerin's gift bottles had hand-written, numbered labels," Alex announced, reading from the file in front of her. "The numbers… tied to obvious Christmas lists, and that ties her to Hamp."

He frowned. "It doesn't tie anything to anything without the scotch." _Nobody drank it, _ he was thinking.

She frowned too. He was right. Circumstantial evidence wasn't enough to nail a slimeball like DeGuerin. She thought hard, trying to think her way around the problem. "Well, those bottles came in cases, and the cases were also numbered."

Goren lifted his head. She was on to something. "Well, it could still be at Hamp's loft." They secured their case room and headed out, energized by a second wind.

* * *

Goren clicked his switchblade open and peeled back the crime scene label on the door. He showed Alex the layers of stickers. "Somebody's been here before us. They put a seal over the previous seal."

Goren, however, followed procedure. He cut right through the sticker, and Alex opened the door. The apartment was dark. Alex tried the light switch, but found it didn't work. Bobby pulled out his flashlight and moved deeper into the room. Eames got her flashlight out, too. He searched left and she searched right.

Bobby went to the liquor cabinet, opened the doors under the bar and shone his light inside. He found the case they were looking for. "Yeah, they're numbered," he called out. "There's another one."

Alex went all the way back to Hamp's bedroom. "It wasn't CSU who broke the seal," Eames yelled.

Bobby caught her light through the paper-thin room divider behind him. He turned, and rose to his full height. A woman's body was seated in Hamp's bedroom, her back so close to Goren he could have reached out and touched it.

Grimly, he stepped into the bedroom with Eames. Her light was still on the body. It was Galla.

The two shared one intense look, and then Eames called it in while Bobby examined the body carefully. When the night coroner arrived, Goren turned his attention from the scene back to Galla's corpse.

He let the man examine her and then asked, "What do you think?"

"Profound bruising," he said, pointing out the area on her neck, "I'd say from thumbs pressed into her throat. I'd almost bet we'll find a broken hyoid bone." He stood and walked away, leaving Bobby squatting by the body.

"Up close and very personal," Eames said, holding up the woman's coat so they could get it in the evidence bag.

"He wanted to see her face, to see her fear," Goren said. "He pulled her… jeans down, left her underwear on."

"So… he never consummated?"

"I think his rage was… was greater than his desire."

"I don't agree," interrupted the coroner. "I did a vaginal swab. I'm pretty sure we have semen."

"So we'll have DNA," Alex said hopefully. She opened the woman's handbag and pulled out a small box. "She was carrying her jewelry." The box contained several sets of earrings. "Yellow diamond earrings, ruby studs."

Goren looked down at her body once more. "She's wearing emeralds."

"She was packed for travel. Passport, ticket printout," Alex walked across the room to show Goren the items. "Aruba," she read.

He took them both from her and read them himself. "I wonder who was waiting for her at the plane?"

"An appraisal slip for the ruby earrings," Alex said, looking at more items from her purse. She read, "Purchased by Stanislav Bardum."

Goren met her eyes. Alex's old colleague. Her tone of voice and the set of her jaw told him she was angry. Bobby looked away and nodded.

* * *

Once they got the call that Bardum was in custody, Bobby took a walk. He knew he wouldn't have time for a nap, but he had to take a break, to clear some of the garbage out of his head.

Ever since she'd made the comment about a perfect world, it seemed like everything about the case was striking home with him. Bardum. She'd said they were only colleagues, even compared the guy to Nichols. But even so, Bobby had been jealous.

And he thought about their relationship, and how hard it had all been since he'd had that stupid physical. Jealousy was rooted in low self-esteem. Bobby looked down at his protruding belly. Yep. Between his poor physical condition and the myriad of emotional issues he had been bombarded with, he certainly was struggling with his self-esteem.

He thought of himself as a kind of a sloth, smart and self-sufficient, yes, but without a lot of effort behind anything he was doing. He was lazy. And slow. And old, gray, and fat. That was how Goren saw himself.

Alex didn't care. She loved him. He knew that was true when she told him, but he couldn't really believe it. If she loved him, then he had to admit there was something about him worth loving, and besides being a smart guy, he came up short-handed.

Goren took the stairs up to the roof, and his mind still whirled as he winded himself. It was understandable, where all this was coming from. He'd been forced to face issues of his childhood, not once, but three times in the last two years. Three times delving deep into the scars and hidden wounds of his past. First when his mother lay dying, slowly withering away in Carmel Ridge. Then when he found out Brady was his father. And finally when Frank had been murdered.

He wasn't, in any way, who he'd always thought himself to be.

But Eames loved him, and so Bobby told himself there had to be something about himself that should be salvaged. And she wanted that perfection, that perfect moment in time when it was all honesty and love. And Goren wanted to give that to her.

He had to stop telling himself he was a failure. He had to start seeing the positives, so he could understand what it was she saw in him. So he could be comfortable in his own skin.

If he couldn't change, he knew, he wouldn't be able to make it work with Alex. And he loved her. God, how he loved her!

"Looks like rain," she announced, walking up in the wind behind him.

He'd been staring out at the lights of the city for 15 minutes, but he hadn't even noticed until just now. "Yeah," he said.

"You okay?"

"Yeah. Just, you know, needed a break."

She gave him a nod of understanding. "Bardum's in holding. We can… whenever you're ready."

Bobby turned to her and gave her a smile. "Let's go," he said, his tone masking how tired he was.


	33. Chapter 33

Chapter 33

"Soon as I saw the uniforms at the airport, I knew." He sat with his arms folded, and held his head down in shame.

"I'm sure you knew before that," Eames said.

"What, that Galla was dead? No, no, no. No, I actually hoped that we were gonna make it out of the woods."

Both Goren and Eames sat with their arms resting on the table, leaning forward to hear what Bardum had to say. "Your prints are on the seal at the crime scene," Eames continued. "We also have semen."

"Yeah, and I'll be a match. We made love at her place. After I begged her… begged her… to get out of the country."

Alex leaned down and turned her head to her partner, who seemed lost in thought. It was a silent plea for him to keep things going. Bobby turned toward her briefly and spoke. "Well, that's, uhm… Galla was… savvy about men." He flipped open the binder and turned an 8 by 10 photo around so Bardum could see it.

"Oh… she had that down." It was a picture of Galla at the rally, wearing her fur coat and ruby earrings.

"I guess she would have dressed like that for… any man that she was waiting for." Goren paused, glanced over at the man, and then continued. "You gave her these, right?" He pointed out the earrings.

"Yeah." He swallowed hard and shook his head a little. "I would have given her the world."

Bobby paused to think about that. Then he drew in a breath and said, "Well, when we found her, she wasn't wearing those. She was wearing these emeralds." He withdrew the small evidence bag and laid them on the table in front of Stash. The man said nothing. "I guess she was wearing them for the man that killed her." Still, Bardum remained silent. There was anger in his face, though. Bobby licked his lips and leveled a stare at him. "You have any thoughts?"

"Well, I can tell you who gave her the emeralds, but that's not gonna acquit me." He glanced at both detectives.

Eames spoke up. "We want the man who's guilty, Stash."

He stared at her, saw her sincerity. He remembered what it was like to work with her. Finally, he said slowly, "Duke Deguerin."

Goren sat back, and Alex gave a nod.

"He gave them to her as a bonus for saying he was a great lay."

"Why'd he kill her?" Eames asked.

"I don't know, that goes into some sick kind of thing that relates to Hamp Trotter."

Goren gave him a quizzical look. "You mean he was jealous?"

"More than that. Weirder. Like when the… the tabloids had photos of Galla at Hamp's protest, it drove DeGuerin crazy. It was, uh, one of those 'mine's bigger than yours' things, only I doubt that Hamp knew he was in the game."

Alex frowned and slowly turned her head to look at Goren. It sounded just like what Bobby had said. The alpha dog.

When they finally wrapped up with Bardum, it was nearly 2 in the morning. They discussed their strategy, and Alex called the Captain while Bobby brewed a fresh pot of coffee in the break room.

She met him there a few minutes later. He was exhausted, and so was she, but neither of them would get a break until it was over. They were at the critical point now. No use whining about the lack of sleep, it was as routine as checking your weapon every day.

He handed her a cup of coffee.

"Thanks," she said, and took a sip, then coughed. "God, Bobby, that's terrible."

He smiled at her. "I put in a… a little extra. You know, a little jolt."

She pulled a face as she took another sip, and grinned. "Terrible. Thank you." Alex walked over to the table and sat down. After another taste, she said, "Ross is on his way in."

"Did you tell him—"

"Not yet."

Goren nodded. He raked one hand through his hair and stretched his neck, then took a drink of his own coffee. "It is terrible," he declared.

She chuckled, and so did he. Alex glanced around, determined that they were truly alone. "Love you," she said quietly.

His lips turned upward, and he gave her a shy nod. Bobby's hand crept forward, but he stopped just shy of clutching her fingers. He gave her a loving glance, and pushed away from the table. "I need to uh, get back to it." He grabbed his cup and got up to leave. Alex gave him a nod. She was going to finish her coffee first.

* * *

She met Ross as he came off the elevator. "Funny how my memo about coming in on time got an obsessive-compulsive response. It is 3 a.m.!"

"We could be very close on Galla's murder," Eames said with a shake of her head.

"What's the rush? DNA? That'll take weeks to process."

"Actually, we're moving in a different direction." She arrived at her desk, with the Captain on her heels.

Bobby was sitting at his desk, with the phone propped on one shoulder. "Okay, someone get back to them," he said into the phone, and then hung up. Alex lowered herself to her seat. "It was Jamie Witzger," Goren told her, and then leaned to the left, stretching his back muscles. "He gave me the names of three women. We'll bring them in." He looked up at the Captain briefly.

"The pimp Jamie Witzger?" asked Ross. "What are we doing with him?"

"Uh… look, I need to tell you…" Bobby began, "I sent two officers to Duke DeGuerin's penthouse. They're gonna bring him in. He'll be here within the hour."

Ross wasn't pleased. He turned his head to listen to Eames.

"We're also bringing his wife as a material witness." She gave him a guilty look, knowing what his reaction would be.

Ross stared at her, then at Goren. "Please tell me we have unassailable evidence." His detectives were silent. They both looked away from him. "You realize that arresting DeGuerin with all his connections…"

"We have a shot at getting his confession, but we have to move before Galla's death hits the morning news."

"Confession." Ross gave them a sour look. "DeGuerin speaks through $1,000-an-hour attorneys." He paced around behind Eames' desk. "He can't be entrapped into admitting anything. Why did you call me? You should have acted on your own, I could have claimed immunity."

"We need you," said Eames. "You're part of the plan." He looked at each of them in turn, and then pulled up a chair.

* * *

"I'm taking the names of everyone," snapped DeGuerin. "Your dismissal, loss of pension benefits." He saw Goren, who stood to greet him. "And… you're gonna head this list," DeGuerin pointed at the big detective. His wife stepped up silently behind him.

"We're sorry for the inconvenience," Bobby told him.

"Being dragged from my home in the middle of the night is beyond inconvenient."

"You'll see we have good reason," said Alex. "Mrs. DeGuerin, can I make you more comfortable while we talk to your husband?" she jerked a thumb in the direction of another room.

Duke threw up his hands and paced near Goren's desk. "Yeah, let's all kill time until my lawyer arrives to kill you." He followed Goren through the squad room. He slowed as they passed an interview room. One of the women Witzger had told them about was inside. She could have been Galla's twin. She had the same color hair, and seeing her from the back, dressed in Galla's clothes, DeGuerin was fooled.

He started to point at the woman, but Bobby inserted himself in the way and announced, "We can talk… in here." The man pulled himself away and continued to follow Goren. He turned back once more to catch another look at her.

Goren opened the door of interrogation C and let Duke in. He shut the door behind them. They stood together near the door. Bobby put his hands on his hips. "Well…" DeGuerin stood, his mouth clamped shut. Bobby gestured to the table and chairs. "Sit."

Duke dropped his coat over the back of the chair and pulled it out to sit down.

Bobby remained standing. "It's amazing how uncertainty plays a role in a life." He'd been thinking about his approach with the man all night. Bobby had been thinking about himself, as well. He was ready for this. He paced across the room and leaned his back against the wall, his hands in his pants pockets. "You leave the keys by the door, you go back, you look, they're gone." He paused. "You leave a person, you think they're…i-i-in truth, you just never know."

"That woman's a whore," DeGuerin said as Eames entered the room.

"Pardon?"

DeGuerin chuckled nervously. He addressed Eames next. "Whatever lies she's told…"

Alex nodded, standing near the wall opposite Bobby. She looked at her partner and folded her arms as she spoke. "The woman you saw with the emerald earrings?"

"Galla." Duke nodded. "It's like this with whores. You pay for their services and sometimes things get a little rough."

"The sex gets rough," Eames said.

"Everything was done with her consent." Goren paced behind him.

"Oh," Alex said. "So… the bruises on Galla's throat...? You choked her as part of a sex game?"

"Distasteful, but not illegal. You can't believe whatever lies she's told you."

"So you choked her and you left her for dead," Bobby commented.

Duke leaned forward. "It's a game." He stopped to lick his lips. "She acts it."

"It's interesting that you're volunteering all this. She hasn't accused you of anything."

"Then why am I here?"

"You wanted Galla to expose Hamp Trotter as a drug addict," Bobby said, looking at his feet.

"That's what she alleges," replied Duke. He didn't know his wife was being led into the observation room with Captain Ross. He didn't know she could now hear everything he was saying.

"Actually," Eames told him, "we have testimony from an employee of yours."

"Yeah. Stash Bardum. He was Galla's lover, he wanted to ruin Hamp out of jealousy." He laughed. "Now, he's trying to blame me!"

Goren looked over at Eames. "Well… jealousy works as a motive."

"Jealousy is a manifestation of… profound feelings," stated DeGuerin. "That's hardly what I felt for that whore."

Goren stared the man down. "It's also evidence of weakness and fear… pathological low self-esteem."

"It's not part of my character!"

"That's true. Yours… is masked… by an inflated ego. But you still look through that window. You see Hamp…flexing his abs. The city buzzes about his sexual prowess… He's penetrated deep into your life."

"Watch it."

Eames' voice rang out. "Your wife slept with him, gave him gifts. Didn't that bother you?"

"And I had his wife. You saw the inscription on that poster. I… was… the best." He laughed proudly.

Bobby leaned against his palms on the tabletop. "Yeah, but, to get it, you had to… finance his film. He never had to pay for it. Hamp, well, he was penniless when he was married to her, you know, women still wanted him. They desired him." Bobby paused, and took a breath. "They even wept for him… these are things they never did for you."

DeGuering was wound tight. He tossed his head back and forth and then said, "I'm here on the word of a whore and a disgruntled employee. I don't need this!" He got to his feet and tried to walk away.

Goren grabbed his shoulder with his right hand. "You don't have a choice." He moved in front of DeGuerin, where he'd have to look him in the eye. "You already admitted to… choking her. She's dead."

First came a look of surprise, and then he realized he'd been tricked. Duke sighed and chuckled sadly. He sat back down heavily. "So…" He gasped, at a complete loss for words.

Bobby pulled a chair and sat down with Duke, knees to knees. "You strangled Galla… on Hamp's bed… to remind her of the power you took over him… Did you feel that strength… when you saw him after Galla had done her job?"

"Yes." He kept one hand against his scalp. "I thanked her for a job well done."

"And drugging him wasn't enough?" Bobby continued the questioning. "Couldn't get rid of that weakness? The weakness that you felt—"

"When I most needed to be a man." He twisted his lips in thought. "When I was a child, my aunt gave me a kitten. It scratched me. The scratch… became infected, it wouldn't heal. Then I just held the little animal a certain way. So easy. Tremors. Not really a struggle. Within a week, the scratch was gone. I was fine."

This new confession hung heavy in the room for a moment. "Galla," Bobby finally said. "What was her, uh, offense?"

"She cried. Like they all cried… for him." He stopped and looked at the detectives. "So… now the theatrics of a trial. Cheap-suited prosecutors against the finest defense team money can assemble!" He got to his feet again and stood near the door, licking his lips. He almost looked like a cornered animal. "I've said nothing under oath. The charade won't wash. He opened the door to leave, only to be confronted by his wife.

"Don't forget me, Duke," she said. "They brought me as a material witness." He gaped at her and she smiled. "Odd, seeing fear on you. I think I like it." Duke glared at her. "I hope to see more of it." A uniformed officer took Mr. DeGuerin by the arm and led him to the other room to be booked.

Alex gave Avia a look of approval. She'd taken her power back.


	34. Chapter 34

Chapter 34

They hung around long enough to be sure DeGuerin had been properly arrested, booked, and locked up. Without a word, Bobby followed Alex down the hall, to the elevator, and they rode down to the parking structure.

Neither one of them spoke until they were in the car. Bobby ran his hand through his hair and mumbled, "I'd like it if you'd stay with me."

She turned her head, not sure she'd heard him correctly, and almost immediately realized she had. "Sure. Yeah. Okay." She started the car and pulled out of the lot onto the street. It didn't take them long, and she parked fairly close.

He stretched his back when he got back on his feet, and Alex wondered about him. She circled the car and touched his back with her hand.

He responded with a soft grunt and they walked into his building together. Inside the apartment, once they'd shrugged off coats and emptied pockets, Alex spoke to him. "You're wrong about it. Not about him, but in general."

"What?"

"Jealousy. Everyone experiences it at one time or another. It doesn't mean all that. Well, it doesn't have to."

"It's a very big… red flag," he told her. "It should be."

"Pathological? Bobby, you're not…"

"I'm a mess." He looked at her sadly, and put his hand on her lower ribs. "But I'm working on it."

She gave him a nod of approval. "Care to tell me how?"

He shrugged. "I have to… practice… more positive… self-talk."

"Sounds good. Let's hear it."

"It's not self-talk if I'm telling other people."

She grinned. "It is. It counts. And I'm curious."

By now they were wrapped in a loose embrace. "I haven't had a lot of luck with it so far."

"Try me."

"I'm, uhm… I'm smart."

"Understatement of the century. You're a Goddamn genius."

He shook his head. "Einstein was a genius."

"Different area of expertise. Say it."

He sighed. "I'm pretty smart."

"Nice try. Again."

"I'm really smart."

"Okay, what else you got?"

"Uhm, that's pretty much all for now."

"Uh-uh."

"I haven't thought of a new one yet."

"How about I give you some ideas. You can… ponder them and maybe share your insights tomorrow night."

He shrugged.

"How about… kindness. Compassion. Integrity. Yeah, any of those should give you a great place to jump off."

He nodded and quietly smiled. "Thanks, Eames."

"Alex."

"Alex."

" 'I'm a fucking genius and I love you, Alex.'" She gave him a nudge with her hand.

"I'm, uh… I'm…"

" 'I'm a fucking genius…'"

"Yeah, okay, uhm… I'm a—" he laughed. "I'm a fucking genius." His smile grew wider. "You know that can have an entirely different meaning than what you intend."

"You're that, too, Bobby," she said, and kissed him on the neck. "Say it again."

"I'm a..." He took a deep breath and the words rushed out all at once. "I'm a fucking genius." He smiled at her, and slowed down for the rest. "And I love you, Alex."

She looked at him proudly, and he bent down to kiss her lips. They stripped out of their clothes, tucked each other in with gentle kisses, and finally gave in to the aftereffects of a very long shift.

* * *

After the paperwork was turned in on the Trotter case, Bobby cleaned out his binder and Alex started through her cold case files, checking into each one for anything new that might have come up in the last month. Her cell rang.

"Eames," she said. "Yeah, okay, sure, Liz. I'll do it." She ended the call and looked over at Bobby apologetically. "My Dad. The weather's predicting a cold snap and he already turned the furnace off. I gotta go relight his pilot for him."

Goren smiled at her.

Eames checked her watch. "Maybe I'll cook dinner for him, too. You wanna come?"

He shook his head. "No, you know… I-I don't think so." He looked down and then back up again. "Maybe I'll call Kathy. I haven't heard from her much lately."

Alex gave him an encouraging smile. "Yeah, that sounds like a good idea." She got up and gathered her things. "I'll call you later?"

He nodded.

* * *

"Goren," he said into the phone without looking.

"Hi, Bobby."

He grinned and cleared his throat. "Hi," he said warmly. "Did you… did you get the heat on?"

"Yeah."

"They're predicting snow."

"I know. And here I thought it was spring."

"Spring in New York," he joked.

"Did you talk to your sister?"

"Yeah. Their weather has been cold, too, but no snow. Her son is getting ready for the prom."

"My senior prom was postponed because of a blizzard."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Eames, you wanna… come over?"

She closed her eyes and sighed. "I'd love to, Bobby, but I'm worried about Dad. If it snows, he'll need help clearing the stoop. The last thing he needs is to fall down the front steps. Johnny's got four days on at the firehouse; he won't be able to help. I'm sorry."

"No, it's okay."

"I still want to hear what you came up with," she told him.

He groaned softly. "Look, Alex, it's hard enough to—"

"We had a deal, Goren. I gave you a springboard, now you tell me what you've got. And repeat the one from last night, too."

"When did you become my shrink?"

"Let's hear it, Bigfoot."

He laughed, then took a deep breath. "I'm a genius."

"A fucking genius."

"Yes, I'm a fucking genius. And I… I'm… empathetic towards others."

Alex smiled. "Good job. Now, what else do you have?"

"You didn't say I had to come up with more than one."

"Well, maybe I just like hearing it."

"Eames."

"Okay, okay. Maybe I'll tell you some things I've noticed, then."

"You will."

"Yeah. You're not the only one who has deep thoughts, Detective."

"Uh, okay, then… let's hear it." He switched the phone to the other ear, grabbed a beer, and stretched out on his couch to listen.

"I've noticed… that when you're close to me, I start to tingle."

Bobby almost choked on his beer. "You do?"

"Just the smell of you makes my heart rate shoot up."

Goren blushed, and grinned.

"And honestly, Bobby? The only place I feel safe is in your arms."

He cleared his throat. "That's just… because of the, you know, the trauma. I helped you after the abduction, so you associate me—"

"Shut up, Goren, it's my turn."

"Okay."

"It's not because of that. I mean, Bobby, I can feel fine, joyful, happy even, and then you hold me and I feel the tension just melt away. Tension I didn't even know I had. You do that for me."

He smiled.

"And you're so damn smart, but you don't ever make me feel inferior to you. I don't know how you do that. I've been around other people, intellectuals, and they get so damn snobby about it. But not you. I appreciate that."

"I don't know everything, Eames. And you, you've taught me a lot over the years."

She smiled. "Still my turn, Bobby."

He sighed and said, "Go ahead." He took a swig from his bottle as he listened.

"I like to feel your chest hair. I like to smooth it down, to follow it as it trails down your belly, all the way to your beautiful cock."

Without being told, he set the beer down, and ran his hand down his body just as she described it. "And then what?" he whispered.

"It's perfect. Even when it's soft and sleeping, it's beautiful. I want to touch it."

He touched himself and smiled.

"And when I feel you twitch against my hand, I get wet."

"God, Alex…"

"You're so huge. You don't even fit in my hand, and I can't wait for you to fill me."

"You're turning me on."

"You're so sexy, Bobby. Just thinking about touching you is turning me on."

"I want to touch you," he said. "I want to hold your beautiful breasts in my hands, to taste your tight nipples."

She moaned softly as she listened to him.

"I want to touch my lips to the smooth skin of your belly, to slip my fingers inside…"

"Oh, Bobby," she whispered, and he could hear her breath in his ear.

He stroked himself as he continued. "You make me so hot, Alex," he told her. "I'm so fucking hard right now. Tell me where your fingers are."

"So wet," she said. "It's so hot in there."

"How many?"

"Two," she gasped.

"Push in deep, I want to hear it. Let me hear it, Alex. Fuck yourself."

She gasped and her breath became even more ragged. He could hear the rhythm in her breath, and he made his motions match hers. "I love you, Alex. Come for me. I'm—" His cock jerked and a tiny cry came forth, interrupting what he was saying. "I'm so close! I'm going to come, baby. I'm gonna fucking explode. God, Alex! Let me hear it! Move your hands faster, I wanna hear you c-c-come!"

She couldn't cry out, she was in her Dad's house. But he heard her ragged breath, and her tiny whimpers. "Oh!" she said. "Oh… oh… ooooohhhhhh…"

Once he heard that she was satisfied, he worked himself harder. Home alone, he had no inhibitions. He grunted and gasped and came with a mighty heave.

"I love you, Bobby," Alex whispered. "I love you."

He couldn't speak for a moment. He panted and slowly came back to his senses. "I'd kiss you now," he said. "I'd kiss you up and down and all over. I'd hold you in my arms and never let you go."

"I love you," she said again.

"I love you, too."


	35. Playing Dead

Chapter 35

For two weeks, the weather flipped from spring to winter and back again. They were together almost every night, unless Eames had a family obligation. She coached him through his nightly self-talk, and already she could see the change in him. He was more confident again, and he was more playful. Bobby even traded a few barbs with the Captain, all in good fun.

He refused to wear his winter coat. It was March, after all, and Goren insisted that it was spring, no matter the weather.

"You're going to catch cold," she told him. "Or worse."

"Nah, I'll be fine." He patted his stomach. "I'll put these extra pounds to good use."

Alex chuckled and rolled her eyes. He was still working on losing the weight, even more so since the results of his blood tests came back. But he wasn't so hung up about it anymore.

Bobby stole a kiss from her. Then he slipped his hands inside her charcoal colored coat.

"Oh my God, you're like an ice cube!" She recoiled from his cold fingers, and Bobby chuckled, reaching for her again. He kissed her again, more deeply, and she jumped at the sensation of his icy fingers, which were now sneaking under her shirt, touching her skin.

"Please tell me you'll at least wear your gloves," she said, as his fingers finally warmed against her.

"Only if I have to," he said, brushing his lips over hers.

"If you're planning to do that anymore, you have to," she said. She worked off his suit coat, and then began unbuttoning his shirt. Under that, he wore a long sleeve tee over a sleeveless undershirt. "It's like peeling an onion," she teased him.

Bobby shoved her coat off her shoulders and had her naked to the waist within seconds. His hands were everywhere. One hand kneaded her breast, and the other slipped into her pants. He suckled her breast. He fingered her hot pussy.

She groaned his name and threw her head back, enjoying every moment of it. Bobby unfastened her slacks and they dropped to the floor. He dropped to his knees and lowered her panties until he could kiss her throbbing clit.

She grasped at his head and held on for the ride. He'd gotten his hair trimmed, and there wasn't much to hold on to. Her fingers curled as he worked his mouth against her, and once she pulled a little too hard. Bobby yelped, and she loosened her fingers.

He panted against her heat, holding her close with his hands against her round ass. He inhaled deeply, and wrenched himself away from her, getting to his feet. In one motion, he was out of his pants.

Alex pawed at his shorts, but he swept her up into his arms and carried her to his bedroom. She grasped at him desperately. "I want you, Bobby. I want you!"

He tore himself away and removed his boxers. When he returned, covering her smaller body with his, his lips toyed with her ear. "I'm gonna make you come, baby," he whispered. "I'm gonna make you come so hard…"

She shuddered when he let his length press against her wet folds. "Yes, Bobby, please!"

He pressed his mouth hard against hers, his tongue stroking deep, and at the same time the tip of his cock dipped inside her.

Her lungs burned for air, but she couldn't break away. Finally, he arched his neck and buried himself inside her.

Alex cried. Tears rolled down her cheeks and she laced her fingers in his. He panted heavily above her, and then turned her hands loose so he could push up against the mattress.

Alex held onto his forearm with her left and stroked the back of his neck with her right. They cried out together, until he heaved and moaned and shuddered.

"Ohhhhh, God…" Bobby exclaimed. "Oh, Alex. Alex, I love you. Ohhhh…" He dropped over her, careful not to crush her with his weight.

He brushed her cheek with the back of his hand. "Are you—are you crying?"

"I'm okay, it's g-good. Good crying, Bobby. I love you," she breathed heavily, still trying to regain control of herself. "That was amazing. You're so amazing."

He disengaged from her and kissed her tears away. "You're so incredibly beautiful," he whispered.

It snowed again that night, and the two lovers were content. In the morning, Eames called to check on her father while Bobby shaved. Her brother had gone over to clear the ice from his steps. She made a promise to do his grocery shopping for him and hung up the phone.

There was still a kind of connection between them as they walked to the SUV, and it wasn't broken until they got to Major Case and were called in on a homicide.

* * *

"Hi, Agnes," Alex said. Detective Farley was the Detective on scene, the one who had called them in.

"Alex," she replied. "Goren," she said with a polite nod. She walked them into the room. "When I heard who she was, I figured Major Case should be on this."

"Tough week for Councilman Hayes-Fitzgerald," Alex commented. "A bribery scandal and his daughter's the victim of a shootout." The three of them stood over the male victim's body and gave it a look.

"I'm told she's actually his step-daughter," said Farley.

"And… he is?" Asked Bobby, looking down at the corpse again.

"Richard Siebert. Twenty-five, unemployed, live-in boyfriend." As Farley filled them in, Goren and Eames began inspecting the apartment.

"Not the nice guy you bring home to meet the folks," said Eames. She held up a crack pipe in her gloved hand.

"Is this her place? His?" Goren asked, staring at a bulletin board on the wall. There were photographs of the female victim with two young kids, as well as snapshots of her and Siebert.

"Her parents pay the rent," answered Detective Farley.

"Did she talk to anybody before they took her to Bellevue?"

Farley answered Eames. "Uh, when I got here, she was already in the ambulance."

Bobby moved a stack of papers off a laptop. "You should take that computer in for a complete download." He thumbed through the papers he'd just removed. They were all cuttings from newspapers and magazines. "Looks like there's interest in her stepdad's problems."

He silently read the note in the margin of one article. It said, "Screw the bastard."

"From the notes on these margins, it looks like she enjoyed them." He showed them to his partner. She took them and went through the headlines one by one.

"I just spoke with the E.R.," M.E. Rodgers announced. "A bullet was removed from the girl's left shoulder. It's the same bullet that went through him, so it's pretty deformed. She'll be okay."

Bobby walked back to the entryway, looked, then turned back to the others. "So the deadbolt is not broken, but the jam is splintered." He took Farley by the arm and walked her back toward the door. "Detective, you're him." Eames knew without him saying that she was to play the female victim. In slow motion, the three detectives acted it out.

Bobby spoke. "So he comes to the door, he unlocks the bolt, the killer hears that and he kicks the door in. You jump back." Farley took several steps back. "Grabs the lamp, throws it."

Eames spoke. "And Stacy's on the couch. She jumps up."

Bobby took Farley by the shoulders and positioned her. "He turns to protect her… the killer fires again." Bobby made a gun with his fingers. "The bullet passes through him, hits her. He hits the ground, bleeds out." Bobby looked down at the corpse again. "Why was he moved?" he asked Rodgers.

"The mother found Stacy pinned under him."

"Under his dead body?" Asked Alex. "For how long?"

"From the lividity, three or four hours." Rodgers shook her head sadly. "Maybe she saved herself by playing dead."

"Or," said Bobby, "The killer only wanted him. We'll do a vehicle canvas in the area, see if anything turns up."

It took another 40 minutes, but they finally sent out their orders and secured the crime scene. Goren and Eames walked to the SUV. Bellevue was their next stop.

"She must have been terrified. How do you lie under a dead body for four hours? And of someone you loved?"

She threw a glance Bobby's way. "Maybe Rodgers was right, some kind of survival instinct kicked in. She played possum. Hard to know when it's safe to stop."

Just the thought of it gave Eames chills. If she had been in the room with Joe, no way could she have frozen. She would have had to have tried to save him, whether that meant fighting off the shooter or giving CPR or just screaming for help. She would have had to have done _something._

Bobby watched his partner carefully. Something about this was hitting her hard, and he thought he knew what it was. Joe had been killed in March.


	36. Chapter 36

Chapter 36

They could hear the girl's angry protests from the hall outside her room. "You want me to be in pain!" She shouted at her mother. The two detectives walked in, and Goren rested his hands at the foot of her bed. He studied her compassionately.

"You heard what she said, no more pain medication."

"You want me to be punished."

"Stacy, this is… withdrawal that you're experiencing," Bobby said softly. "I don't mean to be so blunt, but we need you to remember what happened when it's fresh in your mind, okay?"

"I don't remember anything." She looked away. "I left."

"You mean you tried to escape?" Alex asked.

"No."

Bobby shook his head. He had been through this so many times before with his brother. "We need to know what happened."

"After I was shot, I could feel him in the room with me, so I had to go. I went away." She still didn't make eye contact. "Like I was watching, but I wasn't." She finally allowed a quick glance at Goren. "But I am in pain now." She leveled a gaze at him. "Real pain."

Alex looked over at Bobby, and he gave her a glance, as well. There was nothing they could do to help her with withdrawal.

Alex let her thoughts go as they walked to the car. "So she just, checked out?"

Bobby shrugged, "Yeah, sometimes it happens. A victim of abuse might you know, mentally remove herself from the situation in order to survive it."

"You think she was abused?"

He shrugged. "Maybe, maybe not. I think even with her reaction to what happened, she can probably tell us more than she did."

"Maybe after she gets through the withdrawal."

"Yeah, maybe." They climbed in the SUV and Alex drove them back to the office.

* * *

Ross saw them walking in and joined them. "So Councilman Hayes-Fitzgerald's daughter was shot in what appears to be a drug crime."

"Uh, it's actually his stepdaughter. Her mother was widowed."

"Whatever. My hope is a quick resolution that doesn't antagonize a powerful politician over an errant family member." They stopped walking and Ross took a deep breath. "The Chief of D's is coming by," he admitted quietly.

Bobby made eye contact and then looked down, letting Eames speak next. He and Ross had come a long way since Frank died, but there was no fixing his relationship with Moran. The Chief hated Goren, had it out for him. If he saw a chance to go after Bobby, he would take it.

"Uh, so far it has the look of a drug deal gone bad. They were packed for a flight to Aruba, new clothes, new luggage. Rick Siebert might have stiffed the wrong dealer."

As Eames spoke, the Captain turned his head. The Chief and his men were just walking in as they spoke. "I'll tell them a full canvas is checking into who that might be."

Bobby glanced over at the Chief, then back at Ross. He gave his Captain a short nod, and the Captain walked over to greet his boss. Bobby gave another glance their way, and Alex broke through his anxious thoughts.

"Let's get out of here, we can canvas as well as anyone."

With a silent nod, Goren grabbed his binder and followed her out. Chief Moran gave him an amused stare as he walked by.

* * *

"You've got nothing to be nervous about," Alex told him in the car.

"I know."

"He can't come after you if you've done nothing wrong."

"I know that." His knee was bouncing away mightily, betraying his anxiety. "I'm… I'm smart," he said. "I'm a good cop. I do my job."

Alex nodded her approval. "That's right. You do your job, he has to leave you be." She snuck her hand over to squeeze his quickly, then put it back on the steering wheel.

"I'm a good cop," Bobby repeated, and she met his eyes at the stoplight.

She parked and they walked to a diner up the street.

"You start a canvas and suddenly every douchebag's got a story." The man said.

"The story on you from the landlord is that you were banging on Rick Siebert's door, screaming threats." They were flanking him.

"Was that for drugs or money or both?" Eames asked.

"I got nothin' to say!" The man said, loud enough for the whole shop to hear.

"Really, you're not worried about threatening a murder victim?" Goren asked.

The man looked down. He lowered his voice and kept his eyes to the ground. "Guys, I'm on the job," he said. As a cop, he knew homicide trumped narcotics. He wanted to help them, but he had to make sure he maintained his cover.

Goren looked away, with a determined frown. A former Narcotics detective, he'd been in this man's position before.

"Check with OCCD. Gonzo Ruiz."

"All right," Bobby was barely audible. "Just give me a shove, then."

Goren put a hand on the guy's shoulder, and he jumped to his feet, pushing the larger man heavily. "I'm outta here!" He shouted.

"Hey, hey, hey, hey, sit down!" Bobby said, deflecting the shove and manhandling the undercover into a booth seat. Eames followed them, and all the eyes in the room were on them. "All right, let's talk about Rick Siebert," Bobby said.

"I bought Siebert's debt. They put me into play in his neighborhood."

"You wouldn't buy a debt knowing it was bad," said Alex. "That would make you look stupid."

"He's a dumb kid from Jersey hooked on drugs. Always scheming his way on the street, and people fronted him 'cause he said big family money was coming."

"From _her_ family," said Alex.

"Everybody knew who she was. And Siebert said her family owed them. Whatever that means."

* * *

"Screw the bastard," Bobby muttered. "They had something on the Councilman. They were gonna extort money from him."

"Or they were playing a deadly game with drug dealers and big lies that got him killed."

"We may as well look into it. We've got Siebert's computer, right?"

"Yeah, they should have had time to break into it by now. I'll pick it up from tech."

"I'll look into the news articles."

They split up for a while, Alex working from two laptops and Bobby reading from the various papers about the Councilman's possible corruption.

Alex waved him over. "Turns out Rick Siebert had a marketable skill," she said. "These files from his laptop have Hayes-Fitzgerald's personal emails."

Bobby bent over and looked at both computer screens. "He hacked in. What did he get?"

"Well, for one thing, correspondence between the councilman and his contractor that fed the tabloids. Could be the family money he was talking about."

"But the killing was… after he sold to the tabloids."

Alex frowned. "Revenge?" she offered as a possibility.

Bobby was thoughtful. "Or maybe he threatened something bigger to come?"

"Maybe we should… ask."

Bobby nodded. He circled around to his own desk and picked up the phone. After a moment, he hung up. "He's still up. He's willing to see us."

* * *

"Rick Siebert wasn't welcome in our home," the Councilman explained. "Unfortunately, that meant we didn't see much of Stacy."

"But you paid her rent," commented Eames. She was standing across from the man's desk, while her partner was walking the perimeter of the room, studying the plaques and awards hanging on the wall.

"Well, we knew he was gonna sponge off of her. But it kept her from sleeping in the street."

"Even with Rick Siebert's failings, he was a computer whiz. He hacked into your emails," Bobby announced, never even turning back to look at Hayes-Fitzgerald.

"Siebert sold that stuff to the tabloids?"

"He never made demands on you? For a… bigger payday than what he got at the Ledger?"

"Those stories are fabricated from accounting errors. I would never have given him anything anyway."

Goren put his hands behind his back and finally turned to face their subject. He moseyed forward as he spoke. "He told people he had more money coming. Maybe for material of even greater value."

"He was a delusional crackhead. Why would you listen to him?"

"And Stacy?"

"Let's leave Stacy out of this. I don't think she had anything to do with it."

Goren stared for a moment. "You honestly believe that?"

The man raised a hand. "Can you prove otherwise?" The detectives were silent. "I didn't think so." He cleared his throat. "I have a meeting."

"He's very forgiving toward his stepdaughter who nearly got him knocked out of a mayoral race," Eames said as they walked out.

Bobby carried his coat over his arm, but still refused to put it on. "Let's talk to the contractor who stands to lose millions in city projects."

The wind slapped them hard once they were out of the building. Alex looked at his coat, then at him, but he didn't budge. Once they got in the car, she gave him a glance. "You're looking pale," she said. "You're getting sick."

"No I'm not."

She mashed her lips together. "Stop being so stubborn and put it on."

"I will. When we get there." She was right, he wasn't feeling well. He turned to look out his window and wiped a hand over his face. When they parked, Bobby got out of the car and put the coat on, but he stubbornly refused to button it. Alex tried to keep her thoughts to herself, reminding herself that at least he was wearing it.

They met the contractor and asked him about his whereabouts on the night of the murder.

"I was at a bar, Harley's, havin' a beer, watchin' a game with some of my guys."

"Who will back you up to keep their jobs," said Eames.

"Who will tell the truth," he countered. "Why would I want to kill that punk? I didn't even know him."

"Well, Rick Siebert, he smeared you with some very inside dirt," explained Goren.

"Sticks and stones, Detective."

"On the news, you said you'd find the creep who spread those lies and deal with him," said Eames.

"I was mad. Maybe I meant it a few days ago, but Providence stepped in."

"Providence could have been someone you hired."

"Oh, please! I'm losing trade from tabloid headlines. I'm gonna compound my problems? I'm gonna risk the whole operation by hiring a hit?"

"Okay," said Eames. "Harley's till what time?"

"Last call. I got business," he said, and walked away.

"Seemed sincere."

"I'll check his alibi. You," Eames told him firmly, "should go get some rest."

He didn't want to leave her with the work, but there was no need for both of them to stay on to do it. And she was right. He was dragging. Without a word, he rode with her to the Subway stop, then got out. He leaned down before closing the door again. "Good night, Alex," he said.

"Night, Bobby."


	37. Chapter 37

Chapter 37

"You look better, did you sleep?" Alex said the next morning, propping herself on one corner of his desk.

Bobby nodded. "Yeah, I slept. I feel good."

Alex nodded. She picked up the coffee he'd left for her and got up. "It hit the papers. I'm gonna get a tv brought in, we can watch the news."

Goren nodded, and delved back into his research of the Hayes-Fitzgerald family.

The story was on as soon as they got the set plugged in. Alex didn't even bother to sit down. "Did you know that Rick Siebert was an addict?" the reporter asked. The bottom of the screen read "Councilman's Daughter in Drug Shooting."

Neil had just the right blend of sorrow and solemnity in his expression. He didn't answer, just tried to quickly walk to his waiting car.

"Why didn't Stacy live with you?" pressed the reporter.

"Excuse me, addict or not, the death of a young man and the wounding of our child is a tragedy."

"He is slick," commented Eames.

"It should compel us to address the violence in these drug cultures," Neil continued onscreen.

Alex turned to Bobby. "Hayes-Fitzgerald just tap-danced very effectively to the tune of Siebert's death."

"Well, it must be in his genes," Goren said, glancing down at his notes. "His great-grandfather was a Tammany ward heeler. And then he was, uh, made building commissioner when his predecessor was found floating under the 59th Street bridge."

Alex sighed, disgusted. "Hayes-Fitzgerald. What's with the fancy hyphenate?" She walked around and sat in her chair, across from her partner.

"Hayes is his mom's side of the family? Now they've run City Hall on three occasions."

"Huh, which might have given her some useful connections."

Bobby handed over a file. "These are the… files that Rick Siebert hacked into."

"This… all from the Councilman's emails?"

Goren nodded. "He has correspondence on rare wines."

"A chat room for oenophiles," Alex said. "Not worth a headline in the Ledger."

"Yeah, but… the effort that Rick made to put all this stuff together, put it all into… files… You know, it's kind of like he had the scent of something and he thought it was real value." His knee bounced a little under the desk.

"Like what?"

"I don't know, but I'm picking it up, too. There's something here, Eames. Something of value to Neil Hayes-Fitzgerald."

Alex sighed heavily and pressed the heels of her hands against the edge of her desk. She looked down and shook her head slowly as she thought aloud. "Only one person I can think of who could tell us what he was sniffing out."

"Stacy," Bobby said with a nod.

"Stacy," repeated Eames.

* * *

"So, attacking your stepfather's career, was that Rick's idea or yours?" Alex asked. They were in Stacy's bedroom at the Hayes-Fitzgerald house. It was decorated with a combination of relics from her childhood and other, more mature fixtures.

Stacy turned to her grandmother. "He knows?"

"We've spoken about it," she said. "But he doesn't believe you were involved. He's certain it was all Rick's idea."

"Well, it was. Just for money." Most of her eye contact was with her grandmother and not with the detectives.

"Stacy, you wrote, uhm, 'screw the bastard'… on the margin of one of the articles about your Stepdad." Bobby paused. "To me, that sounds like anger." His eyes bored into her, and she shook her head anxiously, looking around.

"I'm home now. I won't talk about that." She sat on her bed, opposite her grandma.

"She shouldn't have to," said the older woman. "Stacy, like many young girls, went through a rebellious phase, but we're all back together now." She touched her hand to Stacy's back briefly.

Bobby pulled an armchair closer and sat down. "Uh, let's talk about the shooter. Any… facial hair? Scars? Piercings that—"

"He had a hat on. His sleeves were pushed up… uhm… on his wrists and arms, he had tattoos. Snakes or barbed wire."

"Do you think… he thought you were dead?" asked Goren.

She shook her head. "I don't know. He just… shot, looked us over, and left."

They thanked the women for their time and left the house. Out on the street, they discussed the interview. "If the killers were after drug debt, they would have killed them, you know, seeing they were packed for Aruba…" Bobby's illness was asserting itself again. He was feeling nauseated. He ducked his head a little as he walked, the open front of his coat flapping against his thighs with every step.

"And tear the place open looking for drugs… money…"

"Leaving the girl… it's not a pro's move, unless they had specific instructions. I mean, that brings it closer to home."

"We should file a court order for Camille's laptop," Eames said.

"Yeah, and the… wine correspondence thing. It sounds like, you know… like, old mob code. You know, Tony needs a shirt and a half by Mother's Day blah, blah, blah…"

Eames grinned. Bobby was on to something, she knew it. "Yeah, we'll check on the Councilman's true passion for the grape." She crossed over to the driver's door, leaving Bobby standing on the curb until she unlocked the SUV.

She was in more quickly than he was. "You okay?" she asked, noticing the flush in his cheeks.

"Yeah, it's… you know," he shrugged off her concern.

"You might have a fever," she said.

"No, I'm okay." He put his hand on his forehead a minute and then dropped it back to his lap. "Let's just… go. Let's do this."

She gave him a nod and pulled into traffic. As she drove them through the city, he rooted with his hands until he found a fresh bottle of water. He drank most of it before they got to the wine broker.

"The councilman leaves most selections to me," explained the broker. Alex knew very little about wine. She was leaving Bobby to take the lead on this one. She listened, and satisfied her curiosity about a small car that was on display in the showroom.

"Last month," the man continued, "I sent him this Saint Julienne." He picked up a bottle and showed it to Goren. "Full-bodied, long, beautiful finish."

"Yeah, the Councilman, he keeps going on and on about a… Chateau Jeunesse '94 cab, right?" Bobby stared at Alex, who had come up to stand beside him, then turned back to the broker.

"But… it's a Boire dans sa Jeunesse. He wouldn't order that now."

"Why not?" asked Eames.

Bobby spoke up. "Well, you're… s'posed to… enjoy it in its youth. You know, seven to ten years after it's bottled."

"The Councilman has a fine palate."

"You know, we'd like to review his purchases in the last six months," Goren said.

The man laughed. "We can't disclose this information." He walked away from them.

Eames called out, "Unless we shut you down for a forensic audit."

Bobby smiled and stepped closer behind the man. He spoke with his best French accent. "A print-out would do, eh?" Alex smiled behind him.

On the way back to 1PP, Alex stopped to pick up dinner while Bobby hit a corner drugstore for a pack of antacid tablets. Alex looked him over. She was sure he was feverish, but he seemed to be hanging in there. She wouldn't ask him about it again, it would only irritate him. She did, however, try to pick out something for dinner that wasn't likely to upset his stomach.

They ate in the case room, and pored over the new information, cross-referencing the purchases with the items named in Neil's emails. Eames took care of their empty food containers and returned to sit beside him.

"A couple of emails here…where the wine buddies are talking about a '97 Rioja. The Councilman never ordered any Rioja," Bobby told her, making a note on his paper.

"Well, same thing as the Jeunesse cab. He never purchased it."

"It's a code," Goren said quietly.

Alex checked her laptop. She had an email from Motor Vehicles. "Looks like our vehicle canvas paid off. An '06 black van was ticketed for blocking a driveway half a block from Stacy's place at 3:28 a.m. Security cameras picked up an illegal port entry eight blocks away from Stacy's place. Same late model black van at 3:46 a.m."

Bobby thought about these new bits of information. "So the killer shoots Siebert. Fifteen minutes later, he parks his van by the river and dumps the weapon."

"Yeah. We'll get the divers on it," said Eames.

"Any registration?"

"The van is registered to a Toscano Trucking Company in Brooklyn."

"Pay 'em a visit?" He suggested.

"It's getting late. Let's get the divers in the water. Maybe by tomorrow we could have a weapon to discuss."

Bobby nodded.

She looked at him with concern. "Call it a night?"

He glanced up and shook his head, at once recognizing the look on her face. "I'm gonna… crack the code. Give it a good try, anyway."

Eames nodded at him. "I have to pick up some groceries for my Dad. I'll uh… I'll see you back here in the morning." She studied his pale face and his flushed cheeks. "Try and get some rest tonight, Bobby."

He answered with an impatient nod. Bobby wasn't good at accepting care and concern from other people. It just wasn't something he had a lot of experience with.

Eames tried to give him a little smile as she left, but he was already buried in the paperwork.

* * *

The next morning, Bobby still hadn't buttoned his coat, but he did have a scarf hanging loosely around his neck. He'd skipped coffee this morning, and she hadn't seen him eat. The only thing she'd seen that broke through her concern for him was the way he joked about the coat and scarf. It was March. Most of the snow was gone, but the cold lingered.

They walked toward the warehouse together, and she noted that his steps were a little slower, too. Alex dropped her pace a little. There was no reason to rush, at least not yet.

"We're looking for Toscano Trucking?" She called out to an old man on a ladder.

"Who wants to know?" He asked, and then he saw their shields in plain view.

"Is this the correct address for the trucking company?" Bobby called out.

"He's got the whole third floor."

"And his name is?" inquired Eames.

"Di Rogga. If he got problems with the cops, I have other people who want that lease," the man told them.

They nodded and walked inside the warehouse. It was barren inside, save for a desk near the back, that held a phone, a computer, a printer, a tv, and a lamp. Di Rogga was on the phone, practicing casting with his new fishing pole while he spoke on the phone, something about Thursday's game in Philly.

They approached cautiously. "Forget about it," Di Rogga said. "You should know me by now. I never bet college baskets. That's a degenerate's game."

Bobby took the phone from his hand and hung it up. "Mr. Di Rogga." The guy reached for the phone and Bobby snared his wrist. Di Rogga yanked his arm free, but he didn't move from his chair. "We're here 'cause we… need something moved," Goren said.

"What?"

"This is a trucking company," Eames said.

"Everyone's out on long hauls right now," he said.

Bobby walked around Alex, past the desk and stood in front of Di Rogga. "Well, we're here on a short haul. You… from here to our headquarters." He put his hand on the man's arm.

"Well, that would involve my lawyer." They assured him he could call his lawyer once they arrived at 1PP, and led him out of the building.

* * *

"You're quite a dedicated fisherman, Mr. Di Rogga," said Alex. The guy sat at the table in the interrogation room, next to his lawyer. "Buying a boat midwinter," she finished, as Bobby came into the room carrying a tub from evidence.

"It's the right economy to buy anything."

"And paying to dry-dock it the rest of the winter?"

"So where did you get that $19,000 in cash from?" Bobby asked, siting down in the corner behind the suspect. He put the evidence bin on the floor. Bobby pulled a gun out of the box and looked it over while he listened.

"It wasn't half that much," said the man. "The guy was dying to get rid of it."

"Hmm." Alex bent down over him. "Your New York registration number. The seller, Mr. Owens, listed the purchase price as 19-5."

"We'd really like to know… where that money came from." It was Goren's voice, from the corner.

"It was a token of appreciation. I have a small trucking business that hauls antiques for wealthy clients." Goren got up and tucked a chair in beside Di Rogga. "They appreciate the care I take," he explained.

Goren sat down, as Alex continued to question him. "And they give you wads of cash?"

"Oh, don't worry. Come tax time, I'll report it."

Bobby rubbed his hands together, then pointed to Di Rogga's hand. "Can I see… your hand?"

"Sure." He held it out and Bobby tugged the man's pinky finger where he could get a good look. "See something you like, I'll set you up with my manicurist." His pinky had a nasty pinch that was healing up.

Bobby looked over at Eames. "Well, you know, our divers recovered this… Walther ppk .380 from the river. Specifically from the port where your van was spotted making an illegal entry." The lawyer had stiffened in his seat. Whatever this was about, his client had not fully prepared him for it.

Goren continued, "You know, the funny thing is about a Walther ppk is that it has a short grip." Bobby held the gun in his left and the clip in his right. "You know, see," he demonstrated as he spoke, "when you load the clip, you can pinch your little finger. Very similar to the pinch that you have." Bobby tried to grab Di Rogga's hand again, but he twisted it away.

"You have nothing tying that gun to my client," announced the lawyer. "We've been very cooperative… but, I think we're finished here." He got up, and Di Rogga followed suit.

"One more thing," interrupted Alex. "Can you pull up your sleeves?"

He did as she asked, a satisfied smirk on his face. His forearms were white as snow, not even an old scar was showing. "Looking for something special?" he asked, and smiled again.

"We're done, Johnny," said the lawyer. Alex opened the door and the two men left the room.

Bobby turned his head to Eames. "He's very smart. Used a temporary tattoo. Deliberately kept his sleeves up to draw attention away from his face."

Alex sighed.

* * *

"Yeah," he said wearily into the phone.

"Bobby, Stacy Hayes-Fitzgerald is in the E.R. Suicide attempt."

"Uh, I'll… I'll meet you over there." Alex told him the rest of the information and asked if he was up to it.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. I'm fine."

"It's gonna take me a while to get over there, I was all the way home."

"I got it. Take your time."

* * *

Bobby saw her family huddled in the corner of the waiting area. He walked past the curtain, circled back, and opened the curtain far enough that Stacy could see them, too. The younger kids were with their parents, and Neil paced between the curtained area and the waiting area, watching Goren with interest. Bobby could hear the nurse speaking to Stacy as he approached. "You're on suicide watch until he approves your release."

"I'm in no hurry to leave," said Stacy.

Bobby hung back and offered the nurse a kind smile as she left the area. He approached Stacy's bed and gave her a wave.

She waved back.

He didn't look directly at her when he started to speak. "The information you gave us about Rick, it was very helpful."

"I'm glad someone was helped."

Bobby stared at her a moment, and once again he found himself convinced that she was the victim of abuse. He knew about abuse not only from his study and experience as a detective, but also from his own personal life. He felt for her. "I was wondering if you're feeling well enough to look at some photos," he said.

She nodded.

Bobby set his open binder at the foot of her bed, and collected a handful of trading-card size pictures. "Just, if you see the man that you described, just tell me, okay?" He dealt them out on the pillow her injured arm was resting on. She slid her hand back out of the way.

"Do we know why he shot Rick?"

"No, we don't know that yet."

Neil approached them from the waiting area, and Stacy's heart rate increased dramatically. Goren noticed. He watched the numbers change on the display, and checked her face. Then he turned to see who was the cause of her distress. "We just… need a… few more minutes."

"She needs her rest," Neil said.

Bobby pointed to the waiting area. "Maybe you could just go back over there." Both men wore friendly smiles. Both spoke in quiet voices, but the truth was there was a loathing between them that was palpable.

"I'm fine," Stacy said to Neil.

He nodded politely and looked over at Goren with that phony smile. The two men nodded politely at each other and Goren escorted him halfway back to the waiting area. Her heart rate dropped the farther her stepdad got from her bed.

Stacy sat up and looked over all the photos on the pillow. "Actually, I don't think I'm ready to do something like this," she said.

"It's okay," Bobby said, collecting the pictures back. "You've been through a lot." He looked down at her with compassion. "I understand." Goren put the pictures in a pile in his open binder and picked up a guest chair. He carried it around to sit at her side, where he could talk to her and keep one eye on her stepdad at the same time.

"It must have been tough… being in that situation back at… home," Bobby said.

"You don't know anything about that," Stacy told him.

"That's not true. I came from a… bad home. You said… when bad things are happening, you need to… take yourself away to another place. That's what I used to do," he explained. "I used to just want to lift myself up and take myself to another place, you know, so I could see things from somewhere else."

She listened. She sighed. She wanted to believe him. "Maybe it was just the crack."

Bobby followed her gaze. She was staring at Neil. "I think we both know that that's not true.

"I know what you're thinking. You're wrong."

Bobby sat with her quietly, trying to break through, to get her to admit what her stepfather had done to her. Meanwhile, Eames had arrived and was interviewing Josie, Stacy's mother, in the waiting room.

"My life has been about saving Stacy from herself," the woman said. "I homeschooled her in the 9th grade."

"Well, that can't have been easy with your new baby."

"We had good help," called Neil from the seat by the wall. He held his younger daughter on his lap. "We were all in Europe that year."

"Come here, Sophie, let Mommy tie your shoe." Josie went over to her little girl. She took her to the other row of chairs and sat her down.

"And they had me," announced the Grandmother, swooping in to hand her son a cup of coffee. "I have friends, we stayed in their villa. It was magnificent." She glanced over at the curtained off area. "Is that detective still in there with her?" she asked Eames.

"Yes."

"You can't hold Stacy to anything she says after what she's been through. But she'll be home, part of our family again. Like our time in Siena. That was real happiness."

The woman continued to reminisce about happier times, and Eames was relieved when Bobby marched over. Alex turned to him.

"Sh-she's very tired. She's trying to sleep. I wouldn't," he glanced particularly at Neil, "I wouldn't bother her."

Neil bristled, but at one glance from his mother, he smiled the pleasant smile and settled back into the chair once more.

Alex could read the frustration in Bobby's face. He hadn't gotten what he wanted from Stacy. He hadn't gotten enough from her. They said some kind of polite goodbye and headed outside.

"The car's over here," Alex told him, and he followed her. "What is it?"

"Uh, I… I think he sexually abused her. Her, and possibly others."

"Oh, God. Bobby?" She threw him a glance.

"She wouldn't tell me, but I… I saw enough. I want to check into it a little further."

"Mom homeschooled her in 9th grade. She was home all the time, certainly available."

"Yeah, we should… compare notes. Prob'ly check in with the Captain again." In the car, she watched him down a couple of antacid pills before they hit the road.


	38. Chapter 38

Chapter 38

The next day, Bobby briefed Ross on what they'd discovered. "They moved to Europe," said the Captain. "Odd choice for a politician with a hot career."

"You know, we subpoenaed Stacy's records from Dalecrest High… and she'd been… acting out…they…recommended therapy, but instead her parents pulled her out for homeschooling." They walked into the case room together.

"Well, some people view therapy as an indictment of their parenting skills."

Eames sat at the table behind a laptop, listening.

"There's a… bigger reason to duck out of therapy," said Bobby. "sexual abuse by her stepfather."

Ross gave them both a quick, stern look. "That's a headline to die for, if Siebert knew about it."

"Yeah. We don't have direct evidence," Bobby sat down in the chair beside Eames with a short grunt. "But, you know, I think he might have been onto it."

"Hayes-Fitzgerald's wife could have known," pitched Alex.

"Well, we've seen this before. After the initial outrage, fear of the shame overcomes everything. The wife joins with the husband to keep it in-house."

"Even more of an imperative in a political family," Eames told Ross.

"And Camille?" The Captain asked. "Anything on the laptop?"

"Eh," Alex sighed, "Some cryptic emails. She refers to a potentially volatile situation."

Ross thought for a moment. "Use it. Find the raw nerve that breaks through the family wall."

* * *

They waited by the door while Camille walked across the room to join them. "So… has the inconvenience caused me by taking my laptop been of some value?"

Alex knew he wasn't feeling well. She took the old woman on. "We're curious about this volatile situation you've mentioned in your emails to Neil."

She scoffed. "Volatile situations are a daily occurrence in politics." She smiled and sipped her tea.

"Well, I'll bring you closer to home," Eames said. "You raised money for the Hayes-Fitzgerald Library… the beautification of Van-Cortlandt park, and St. Lioba's, a shelter for runaway teens. The strange thing about that, this shelter got three times what the others got."

"Why should my personal charities be of any concern to you?"

"Well, these other fundraisers, they're longstanding projects." Eames moved closer to the woman. "But your interest in St. Lioba's surfaced just a few years ago."

"Shortly after Stacy left Dalecrest High," added Goren.

There was a tense moment of silence. "Investigating an addict's death does not give you the right to question my personal generosity. I've had enough." She set down her teacup. "I'm calling the commissioner."

The detectives nodded and started toward the door. Bobby gave the woman a smirk. "It's a…raw nerve, huh?" he said just before leaving.

* * *

The illness was getting the better of him. Alex suggested he take some work home. It not only would allow him to take care of himself, it would also get him out of the squad room when the inevitable visit from the Chief of D's happened. The Commissioner was bound to call him, and he was bound to come put pressure on Ross and on the two detectives. The last thing a sick Bobby needed was to be confronted by Moran.

He took the printouts of the emails and a folder full of family records: financials and taxes.

The first time she called, she left him a voicemail. "Hey Bobby, Moran just came by. Ross fielded it for us completely. He didn't even call me in to his office. Moran stayed about ten minutes and left. So I guess the coast is clear on that one. I hope you're feeling better."

Late that night, she called him again.

"Hello?" he said.

"How you feeling?"

"Lousy. I'm glad I came home."

"You're throwing up?"

"Yeah. It's not pretty."

"Oh, Bobby, I hate it that you're sick."

He shrugged. "I got your message… about Moran."

"Yeah, well, he's a politician, too. Last thing he would want would be to smooth things over for a pedophile."

"I broke the code."

"You did?!"

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure. Look, I… I gotta go. I'll tell you about it in the morning."

"Okay, Bobby. Get better."

"Bye, Eames."

* * *

The next day, Stacy was scheduled to be released from the hospital. Goren and Eames hurried over, and arrived just as her stepdad and younger siblings were there for a visit.

"Oh, back again?" Neil complained. "This is becoming harassment." He squared off with Goren.

Bobby put his hands on his hips. "Well, we're looking for the man who shot Stacy. Why would that be a problem?"

"I just don't want her pressured," Neil said, and patted Goren on the shoulder. "Come on, kids, let's go." He walked back and picked up Sophie with a grunt. "We'll be in the hall," he told Stacy, and stroked her cheek.

She pulled away from his touch.

"Bye, Stacy," her little sister called.

"Excuse me," said Neil, walking between the two detectives as they left the room.

Both of the detectives noticed her reaction to her stepfather's touch. They could hear how her heart rate increased on the machine that monitored her vitals. Bobby went to her side, looking back at Alex once more before turning to Stacy.

He took a deep breath. "I just saw him… you don't want him touching you?" Bobby asked.

She fingered the paper chain she'd made with her younger sister. She shook her head, every muscle in her body tense from the encounter. Alex took a step closer.

"Stacy," Bobby said, "Uhm, it's hard… for victims… of this… sort of thing to have a normal… relationship." He thought a moment. "Y-Rick Siebert… might have… caught on to what was…"

The girl was crying. "Yeah."

"He knew what happened."

"Not at first." She closed her eyes and tried to summon the strength to talk about it. Her voice was shaky. "He… asked me a lot of stuff." She drew in a breath. "Like…why I ran away and…what the shelter was like."

"St Lioba's." Alex said. The girl looked at her and nodded.

"Rick might have, uh, threatened blackmail, I mean, far beyond any kind of political scandal… which could have meant, uh, jail time for your stepdad," Bobby explained.

"And that's why Rick was killed." Alex's voice was firm.

Stacy took in what they had said, and emotion overwhelmed her. She tried to hold the tears in, but they fell anyway, accompanied by painful gasps.

* * *

Later that day, they were called to the Hayes-Fitzgerald house. Josie let them in and led them up the porch stairs. "When I saw she'd gone, I had to call you," the woman said.

"I guess we'll…just… play games," Goren said. He was getting fed up with all of them. "There's a reason why she doesn't wanna… share a roof… with your husband." Hands in pockets, he moved closer to her and then stopped. "I… think we all know what that is."

She looked cornered. She glanced around nervously. "Stacy… says things, but she's not always telling the truth."

"At what point do you stop lying?" Interrupted Eames. She was fed up, too. "How did he do it? Diminish you? Make you… feel… unworthy… of a man of his stature?"

"How does someone justify… what he did?"

She had turned away from them, hiding from the topic of conversation. Their words, their questions settled over her, and "Oh, God," escaped her lips. She went to the table and sat down.

"How did you justify it?" asked Eames again. She and Bobby sat down at the table with her.

"When the two of you met," Goren said, and he cleared his throat, "she was… around… 12. I've seen photos of her. She was a beautiful girl… Did you consciously… use that?"

The woman was shaking with sobs. "No. My God, no! It… it just happened."

"And it happened again, and again and again," added Eames.

"He loved me."

"And you paid for that with access to your daughter." There was judgment in Alex's voice.

"It's not just me. Stacy's… unstable… the drugs, and Rick…"

Exasperated, Eames looked over at Bobby. "Rick was a shelter for her," he said.

"She talked about him like he was a hero."

"Well, you weren't there for her." There was judgment in his tone, too. "She had to have someone to go to."

"Oh!" She sobbed harder. "It's true! I was afraid of losing everything!"

"She ran away before… where did she go?" asked Alex.

"To Rick. Always to Rick."

They left her crying. Alex walked quickly to the car. She was bubbling over with emotion, and Bobby could sense it. She got in, sat down, and put her seatbelt on.

He'd been two paces behind her all day. He got in and shut the door. "He's, uh, buried at the Forest Meadows cemetery," Bobby said.

"I know. Look, I… I can't do this, Bobby. I… I just can't."

"It's okay," he said. I can… you know, just drop me, wait in the car, whatever."

Silently, she nodded and started to drive.

Goren was better than the day before, but he still wasn't up to par. He regarded her carefully. The anniversary. The anniversary of Joe's death was only a couple of days away. And here the job was taking her to a cemetery. Of course she couldn't do it.

He kept his thoughts to himself. She pulled into the gravel loop that circled through the peaceful field of tombstones. Bobby gave her a long look and then got out. A lonely crow cawed in the trees overhead.

Stacy was kneeling before the freshly filled grave, exactly where they expected to find her. "You knew I'd be here?" she asked him, as he walked slowly toward her.

"It wasn't hard to figure out." He took a breath. "You don't have anyone else to go to."

"Doesn't say much about me. Everyone calls him a lowlife."

"Well, you did deserve better," Goren said.

She got to her feet. "I had to get away."

"Look, you shouldn't go away this time. You have a responsibility, you know, for somebody that you love, somebody that you care about… Sophie."

"She's only a baby," Stacy said. "Neil wouldn't actually…"

"Maybe not." He looked away, then turned his head in her direction and gave her a stare. "But you know, people with his… sickness, you know, their patterns, they don't change. And… he's gonna molest other girls… He will hurt her." Bobby nodded his head with certainty.

"Sh-she's his blood." Stacy shook her head, not wanting to believe it.

"You wanna take that chance?" asked Bobby. "Abandon her? Like your mother abandoned you? Is that what you wanna do?"

"You know?"

He nodded. "Mm-hmm."

She shook her leg nervously, and struggled with the decision. She thought of little Sophie, and made up her mind. "Okay. Okay. What do I do?"

Bobby felt some relief. "You come with me, with us. My partner, she's just up the hill, there."

"Okay." She followed him up the hill and to the SUV. Bobby opened the back door for her, and she got in. Eames gave her a nod, then glanced at Bobby.


	39. Chapter 39

Chapter 39

Bobby put in a call to the DA's office. They agreed to send out an ADA to talk with Stacy about her role in prosecuting her stepfather once the arrest was made. Back at 1PP, Eames called for a unit to go pick up Hayes-Fitzgerald and then she left to take a break. Bobby sent out another unit to pick up Neil's mother, and then he went searching for his partner.

He found her on the plaza outside the main doors. It was too cold to sit on the benches, so Eames was leaning against the building, her coat wrapped tightly around her. She stared blankly at the people and traffic passing by.

Goren stretched out his hand, placing it against the wall. Her eyes flitted over to him and then back out to the street. "You found me," she said.

He nodded. "You okay?"

Alex almost shook her head, but she put on that invisible armor of hers.

"You wanna take off? I can, you know, I can work it with the Captain or something."

"No. I'll do it." She glanced over at him again, and the love in his eyes almost brought tears to hers. She closed them tight and took a deep breath. She straightened up, taking on her own weight once more. "I just had to get out for a few minutes, you know?"

Bobby straightened up, too, dropping his hand back and putting it in his pocket. "Yeah. I know."

They walked back inside together.

* * *

They booked the interrogation room, and after a brief discussion, walked in to wait with Neil Hayes-Fitzgerald while they waited for Camille, his mother, to arrive.

The Councilman asked several times what they wanted from him, what they were waiting for. Eames appeared she might answer him. She stood over him, looking at him from across the table-top, and she shuffled papers in her file once in a while, but she never spoke.

Bobby leaned against the wall next to the door, his knee raised, foot flat against the wall, and staring Neil down. Finally an officer opened the door and the matriarch walked in. Neil got to his feet, seemingly shocked.

"I thought… it would be nice for the two of you to be together," Goren said, waving his hand in invitation, "you know, since you're so… close." He walked over to Neil and dropped his hand on the back of the vacant chair.

Camille walked in stiffly. "Drop it," she said. She spoke as Bobby pulled the chair out for her to sit. "My father hired and fired police commissioners. I know how you work."

She sat down and Bobby circled around to the other side. "Of course you do," he said quietly.

Neil sat beside his mother and reached out for her hand. She kept her hands folded as he clutched them from the top. Finally he gave up and folded his hands on the table in front of him.

"So," began Bobby, "Rick Siebert was very interested in your correspondence with your wine pals."

"What's he talking about?"

"I don't know."

"Something he never shared with you?" Eames asked, standing very still, her hands clutching the back of the chair on her side of the table. Bobby walked around the table again, standing between the two, holding printouts in his hand.

"In these emails… to your pals, you say that there's a special Chateau Jeunesse '94… that you're… longing to savor." He dealt out the printed emails between the two. They read them all with their eyes. His folder empty, Goren walked back around to Eames' side of the table.

Neil smiled up at him. "That was a joke. I know better than to hang on to a Jeunesse."

Bobby had a smile, too. "Yeah, right." He looked down at the emails, and his smile faded. "But these… are not about… wine." He stared over at Neil, who seemed amused, but said not a word. "It's code," Bobby explained. "'94 is the…year that your… babysitter was, uh, born, Jessica. And in these emails, you brag to your… pedophile… buddies, that you would have sex with her." Bobby was leaning on his palms now, at the end of the table.

Neil chuckled. "Are you insane?!"

"Stacy saw you and Jessica come up from the wine cellar." Eames was all business. She stood tall over all of them, one hand still clutching the back of the chair. "That's where… this all happens, isn't it?" She asked, waggling her hand over the emails in front of them.

Neil folded his arms and acted appalled. "Stacy's brain is damaged by drugs." As he continued to speak, Goren turned around and opened the door to the interrogation room. "I mean, you can't make a case with her testimony about anything." At a nod from Goren, the uniformed officer escorted Stacy to the door.

The young girl walked slowly in and stood by the door. She stared at Neil, who glared at her. "How dare you," he said. She glanced at the officers and then back at Neil. "So you lied to them."

"I've given a statement." She stopped and swallowed hard. "How you took me to the wine cellar. What you did."

"You came from nothing. Fatherless," hissed Camille. "And you turn on us with these disgusting fantasies?"

"The teen shelter didn't think they were fantasies," Eames pitched. Bobby stayed near Stacy, watching her closely, and with compassion. "Especially after they found out she was pregnant," Eames added.

They let that sink in for a moment, and Goren turned back to the two at the table. "And you took her to Europe?" He paused, gave a nod. "To some secluded…villa… Where was it? Siena? Right?"

In the silence that followed, Stacy spoke with a shrug. "Sophie's my proof. She's my daughter. My sister and my daughter."

Neil got to his feet and moved closer to the girl. Bobby watched him like a hawk. He put a hand out and stepped in front of Stacy.

"Feel good to tell someone, Stacy?" Neil said in an accusing tone. "How you danced around in your underwear, getting me excited? Oh, did you leave that part out?"

"I was a child."

"A child! You better get the whole story down! Because that's exactly how it's gonna go in court."

At a glance from Goren, Alex hurried to the door and opened it.

"Not just what I did, but what you did!" Neil continued.

Stacy was overcome with tears. "I can't!" She cried, and stepped out of the room.

Again, the two detectives shared a glance. Alex nodded at him, and Bobby slowly walked out of the room, following Stacy down the hall.

"I can't do it!" She cried, sensing that he was close to her. "I'm too ashamed!" Ross was standing there with her, too.

"No, no…" Bobby said. "The shame… will be his. Okay, not yours."

"You can trust us," Ross said. She gave a nod, and Ross gestured to the observation room. Still crying, she went in. Bobby and the Captain shared a glance, and then he went back into interrogation.

Eames was pacing by the table. Neil was still standing, his back to the wall. "So I guess this interview is over?" He called out.

"Oh, you can go," said Alex. "But you'll be back. In handcuffs," she added. "On a perp walk."

"Oh, face it, Detectives… I mean, without her, what have you got?"

Bobby sat down and directed his comment to Camille. "The effort… that you put into him, it's all been cursed because of this weakness of his." He collected the emails into a stack and straightened them by tapping them against the table."

"Shut the hell up!" shouted Neil. He stepped forward and sat beside his mother. "Mom, we're out of this."

"You're not out of this," said Goren quickly. He stared at Neil, then looked over at Camille. "All the dreams that your mother had for your future, that's all gone. You just threw all that away. You're not out of this."

"Mom… they have no case. I mean, we can beat it."

"Look at him," Goren said quietly. "I'm… sure you've seen this before… 'Mama, please Mama… Save me, Mama.' "

"Shut up, I said!"

"All the time that you've put into him…" Goren continued quietly, "You're sacrifice was wasted."

"What sacrifice?" Neil asked with a scoff. He clutched at his mother's arm, and she yanked free from his grip.

Camille got to her feet, turned away from him, from all of them.

"Camille, your phone records…" Bobby said. "The phone calls back and forth to Rick Siebert… On his disposable cell… you did everything you could to meet the demands of his… blackmail."

"I only made phone calls to determine Stacy's well-being," she said softly.

"Doubling back charity contributions to get the payoff money for Mr. Di Rogga," Alex said. "That… you did for your son."

Neil looked at Camille in shock.

The older woman stared across at Eames. "You're better than I thought." Eames nodded.

"Better at what?" asked Neil. "Meaningless allegations?! Mom! I-I'll go to the right people, get this turned around. I've always been able to turn things around."

"You?" She said, giving him a glare. "You didn't deal with Rick Siebert."

"What?"

"Your mother hired Di Rogga to kill Rick Siebert," explained Goren.

"And you expect me to believe that. Okay, see… I don't believe that."

"Of course not. You think you just got lucky. One more time, everything just worked out for you." Goren got to his feet and approached her as she spoke.

He was incredulous. "I honestly didn't know anything about this," Neil told Eames. "I mean, if there was a plan to kill Siebert, I had no part of it."

"How quickly he scrambled to distance himself!" Camille declared.

"Oh, that can't surprise you," said Goren. "I'm sure he's done it before."

"And denied it." She smiled at her son. "Your life is blessed because of me… because I dared to hope to… I dared to dream that you would have the stones to go the distance, but I was wrong."

"Ma! Please don't say these things! Not in front of them!"

"I covered for you a thousand times," she said, moving closer to her son, "in a thousand different ways, and here we are. There's nothing more I can do for you."

Neil broke down into tears, covering his face with his hand.

"Stop crying!" She screamed at her son. Almost as quickly, she was caressing his hair. She petted him, and grew tearful herself. "It doesn't mean that I don't… that I don't still love you… because I love you!" She was sobbing now, bending over him. "I still love you. I love you."

Slowly, Goren turned to the two-way, looking sick all over again.

"I love you, Neil," the woman said, hugging him.

Bobby gave Eames a glance, set his jaw, and they arrested both Neil Hayes-Fitzgerald and his mother. The uniformed officers led them away to holding, giving both detectives a well-deserved break.

Bobby glanced over at Eames, and then went around to speak to Stacy again. She smiled at him. "You did it, like you said."

"You did it, Stacy. Your courage."

She teared up. "That DA said I could get custody of Sophie. He said he'd talk to me again."

"That's good."

She reached forward and hugged him. "Thank you," she sobbed. "Thank you."

He extracted himself from her grip and politely said goodbye. Then Bobby went up to the roof. He understood her gratitude, but he was very uncomfortable accepting it. Bobby decided he would stay on the roof until he was sure the girl would no longer be in the squad room.

He didn't have his coat, but the cold breeze felt good to him. He walked over to his usual perch, leaned over with his hands against the safety wall. He heard the door behind him and turned his head to see who it was.

Eames was wearing her coat. In fact, she'd been wearing it all morning, even in interrogation. She buttoned it closed and joined him, looking out over the busy street.

"She's gone now. I saw her get into the elevator."

He nodded and stuffed his hands into his pockets. "You okay?" he asked her, trying to continue their conversation from earlier.

"Yeah," she said. "It's… it's always hard this time of year. Most of the time, the job is a… distraction." She looked up at him, and he nodded.

"You can go, if you want. I'll finish up the paperwork."

She raised a hand to his cheek, and dropped it away just as quickly. "You've been sick. How about we knock out the paperwork together and get the hell out of here?"

Bobby gave her a smile, a softness in his eyes. "Okay." The wind picked up, and he shivered involuntarily.

"When are you going to start wearing your coat?" she admonished him.

He shrugged and walked with her towards the door. "I forgot," he said.


	40. Chapter 40

Chapter 40

Bobby went to her place. They'd been together so often in the last few months that they each had a few orphaned clothes at the other's apartment. Goren found a pair of jeans and a t-shirt and changed into them. Eames slipped into a pair of yoga pants and one of her sleeveless tanks that she liked so well.

"Did I ever show you my wedding pictures?" she asked him, as he loaded the dishwasher after their quiet dinner.

"Hmm? N-not all of it," he answered.

Alex went in the other room and got it off the bookshelf. She'd kept it there ever since the night they'd arrested Joe's true killer. Before that, it had been tucked away in a box in the closet, a keepsake, but nothing more.

Since the Beltran case, she had been able to reminisce about her time with Joe. She had finally grieved her husband's death. And though she didn't dwell on it, she was resolved to honor his memory and not just pretend it had never happened.

Sharing Joe with Bobby wasn't something she'd done a lot of. It was easier to keep things separate, but Bobby loved her, and he wanted to know everything about her. She'd told him some things about Joe, bits and pieces. After the Beltran case, she'd shared a lot more. But they hadn't spoken of him much since.

It would soon be the anniversary of his death, and while it seemed morbid to try and remember him on that date, it was inevitable. Alex wanted to celebrate her time with Joe, so if she was going to remember him at this time of year, she would remember the good times.

Goren wasn't sure how much he wanted to see of Alex and Joe. He had heard about Joe often, but in his mind's eye, Joe was a kind of foggy cloud, a real man, a good cop, but a fuzzy bit of Alex's past that didn't have much place in their life together. He was nervous that seeing the wedding pictures might bring Joe into clearer focus. He was nervous that he couldn't measure up.

But Bobby knew that her time with Joe was a very important piece of her life, and helped to shape her personality. Without Joe, Alex wouldn't be the woman Bobby loved.

So he agreed to look at the wedding pictures. She narrated the whole day for him, laughing about things that had happened, and sadly touching her fingers to Joe's frozen image.

Bobby sat close beside her, sometimes with an arm over her shoulders, and sometimes shoulder to shoulder. Joe came into clearer focus, but mostly what he saw was Alex. Alex Eames, younger, beautiful, and happy. Every other page, he mentioned it. "You're beautiful," he said, and she smiled before rattling off something about the dress or the woman who did her hair.

Finally, she reached the end of the album. She closed it and reverently put it back on the shelf. Alex folded her arms and walked slowly back to the couch. She bent her knees and sat beside Bobby.

He put his arm around her, and she tucked her head against his broad chest. "You okay?" he asked.

"Yeah," she said, and he could hear that she really meant it. Alex took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and rested in Bobby's arms.

* * *

He should have slept like a rock, but he didn't. Each time he woke, Bobby found himself thinking about Alex. He thought about how things would have turned out if Joe had never died, or if Alex had been pregnant when he died. She'd told him they were trying for a baby when Joe was killed.

He didn't only think of his own loss; he thought of how her personality might be different. Bobby loved Alex, and he knew the tender side of her like no one else did, but he knew what other people saw, too. He knew Alex was tough as nails, and he understood how much Joe's death had made her that way.

She'd always been tough. The stories her family told about her childhood made that clear. She'd been a tomboy, she'd gotten into fights at school and with her brother. But she'd also stolen her sister's makeup and clothes. She'd gotten Polly, her bird, when she was 12, and cared for it until that awful night that Jo Gage had abducted her from her apartment. She was fantastic with children, and her family often called on her to babysit.

Joe's death had hardened her. It was as if she had shoved all of her tenderness into a compartment and it could only be tapped into outside of work.

Of course, there were times when she couldn't keep up the façade, but Bobby knew she saw those moments as weakness. She was very guarded about her femininity.

She sighed in her sleep, and he rolled to his side. Bobby stretched his hand over her waist and scooted close to her. He thought for a moment how lucky he was to see this side of her. He touched his lips to her neck and whispered in her ear, "I love you, Alex Eames."

* * *

The next day they busied themselves with paperwork. Alex hit the shooting range in the afternoon, and Bobby sat through an hour of online training about crisis prevention. In all, a boring afternoon for him. He suffered through it and met up with Alex for dinner at a Greek restaurant on her side of town.

"You didn't sleep, did you?" Alex asked, after he stifled a yawn.

He shrugged sheepishly. "I tried," he admitted.

"Are you feeling better?"

"Yeah, I'm good now."

"What kept you up? The case?"

He shook his head. "N-no, not any more than usual. I just… I get this way sometimes, just start thinking and can't turn it off."

She accepted his answer and picked at her food for several minutes in silence. She seemed sadder than the night before, and Bobby knew it was Joe on her mind.

"You want me to stay over again?" he offered, touching the back of her hand with his fingers.

She looked down at his long fingers and sighed. "No, Bobby. I don't think so. Not tonight."

"I love you," he told her.

One side of her mouth curled sadly. "I know. It's okay, really."

He gave her a nod, and got out his wallet.

* * *

The next day, Goren had to testify in court. The day was full of delays, and he ended up pacing the halls of the courthouse, wondering if Eames was all right.

When the court recessed for lunch, he called her, and got the canned message you get when the phone is turned off. Bobby frowned and left her a voicemail message. "Alex, it's me. Court's dragging on all day. I don't know if I'll make it back to the squad today. Look, I, uh… I hope you're doing all right. I'll talk to you later."

With a frown, he looked up a number and made a second call.

* * *

When Alex returned from lunch with Wheeler, there were flowers on her desk. She knew who they were from already, but she pulled the card with a little smile.

_Thinking of you_, it said, and the shop people had typed Bobby's name on the bottom. Alex smiled a little more and tucked the card into her pocket. She moved the flowers out of the way and got her paperwork back out.

* * *

"I don't know, if you want to be alone, I understand," Bobby stammered.

She opened the door wide. "No, Bobby, I'm okay. I'm glad you're here."

He came in and she enfolded him in an embrace.

"Thanks for the flowers," she told him and lifted her chin toward the table, where they stood proudly as a centerpiece.

He shrugged. "I'm glad you liked them."

"Have you eaten?"

"Y-yeah, I picked up something when I left the courthouse."

"Want a beer? Glass of wine? Something stronger?"

"I'll have what you're having," he said with a grin.

Alex poured them both a glass of wine. They sat together on the couch. Alex was barefoot. She turned sideways and tucked her toes under his thigh, holding her wine glass between her knees with one hand. She smiled at him and took a sip.

"Did you, uh…" Bobby kicked his own shoes off and tried to figure out how to broach the subject.

"I had my moment for Joe, yeah." Her eyes were smiling, now, and Bobby was glad to see it.

"Good. That's good." He drank some of his wine, and she wriggled her toes, digging them under his leg a little further. He smiled, too, and dropped his left hand down on her leg, letting it slide back and forth on top of her thigh.

"How was court?"

"Oh, they finally called me at about 4:00. The, uh, the defense attorney, he tried to, you know… trip me up, but I did fine."

"I'm supposed to go on Wednesday. I hope I don't have to wait around so long." Neither one of them liked to go to court, but it was a necessary part of the job when you didn't manage to get a confession, or when a confession was determined inadmissible.

Bobby's hand slid down her thigh and the back of his fingers brushed against one breast. He smiled at her. Alex smiled, too, and they sat quietly as he slowly stroked his hand there.

Alex polished off her glass of wine and dropped her left foot to the floor as she leaned forward to set the glass down.

Bobby paused in what he'd been doing, drank down the rest of his glass, and she took it from him. Alex set his glass next to hers and he pulled her onto his lap. She leaned forward, until her face was nearly touching his. Bobby reached up and stroked her hair back. Then he cupped the back of her head and pressed his mouth to hers.

Alex's left hand slid back through his hair, and her right rested against his cheek. Her fingertips were tickling his earlobe. She returned his kiss, and his left hand slipped up her torso and lifted one breast.

She moaned with delight, and dropped her right hand down. She ran her fingertips across his clavicle, up his neck, and under his chin. Alex shimmied her body closer, until her crotch was against his lap. They continued to kiss, tongues rolling deep, and she ground herself against him.

Bobby pinched her nipple lightly, and let out a moan of his own as he felt his blood pooling under her weight. He broke away from her mouth and attacked her neck with his lips, pressing himself hard against her grinding crotch.

By the time their lips met again, he had both hands around her back and they were making love through their clothes.

She sighed heavily, and he let go with his hands. Dropping them to her hips, he lifted her until she was on her knees. Bobby reached down, furiously unzipped his pants, and extracted his stiffened penis. He yanked down her pants next, hastily rubbing her with his long fingers. He kissed her mouth once more and guided her to sit on him again.

This time, Alex was slow and careful about it. She touched his tip and lifted away. Bobby worked his hand in again, and tried to hold himself steady for her. She was in the driver's seat, though. She hovered as they touched, and he tried to press into her, but she lifted just out of his reach. He sighed heavily, trying to hide his disappointment.

She did it again, and Bobby moaned with need. The next time she pulled away, his fingers found her and she gasped in surprise.

"I want you, Alex. I want to feel you around me, just like this." He pushed his fingers in and out of her, and she smiled. "C'mon, Alex, I need you," he pleaded as his fingers worked some kind of magic inside her. Her breath was ragged and her cheeks were rosy. Her nipples were at attention, and the fabric of her bra felt like it was scraping them. In between heavy breaths, she reached down and pulled his hand away.

This time, Alex let him enter her. Bobby's wet fingers settled against her ass, and he lifted her in time to their lovemaking. He heaved with every thrust, and she arched back as far as she safely could.

Alex yelped with pleasure, and he moved deeper and deeper inside her. Finally, his hands raised to hold her shoulders and he cried out with her as he held her against him. Bobby kissed her hard, and desperately, and then once more, as soft as the first time. They clung to each other, panting and throbbing with satisfaction. All of Alex's tension was gone. She was overcome with a sense of peace.


	41. Lady's Man

Chapter 41

_Dear Bobby,_

_ Well, last night was the Prom. Martin stayed out all night with his group of friends, and I was out of my mind with worry. The kids looked terrific, all dressed to the nines. The girls were a little cold, I think. A cold front moved through and our temperatures dropped to below freezing!_

_ The boys gave the girls their jackets, and Martin said they spent a lot of time just driving around in the car, since it was too cold to do much outside. They had fun at the dance, he said. They went to breakfast together at a hotel before driving everyone home._

_ Some kids in the next town over got drunk and wrecked their car last year. One girl was paralyzed from the accident. I guess that's why I was so worried all night. Hank reminded me that Martin isn't like that, and neither are his friends. I know he was right about that, but I couldn't seem to stop worrying, anyway. _

_ Molly has been playing dress-up ever since she saw the girls in their gowns. She wants me to buy her a formal somewhere! _

_ Timmy seems oblivious to all of it. He and his best friend are trying to build a fort in the back yard. So far they've used about three rolls of duct tape. Hank got pretty upset when he didn't have any!_

_ I hope things are well with you. As for me, I'm planning to take a nap._

_ Take care,_

_ Kathy_

Goren smiled. Along with Kathy's email, he had another from Molly. She told him her version of the events surrounding prom night, and it was much more romantic and exciting. She was most excited about the fact that the teenagers stayed out all night long.

Bobby typed out a couple of friendly notes to them, and then read another email, this one from Boston. He was being asked to consult on a case there.

Eames was still asleep in the other room. With her court appearance scheduled on Wednesday, it wasn't likely Ross would hand them anything big for a couple of days. For lesser crimes, police weren't always called in to testify, but Major Case was high-stakes. When his Detectives had court, Ross did everything he could to keep them available. There was no point in doing all the work to find a killer to let them off on a technicality because you couldn't make it to the trial.

Bobby accepted the consultation job. He sent an email to Boston, and another to his Captain. Then he poured a cup of coffee for her. He carried it back to the bedroom, a warm smile on his face. He set the cup on the dresser beside her wedding picture. Bobby sat down on the edge of the bed beside her.

The change in the mattress woke her. She rolled over and stretched her arms over her head. "Mmmm," Alex said.

"Good morning. I've got your coffee right here," he said.

She rubbed her eyes and opened them. "I slept late?" she asked.

He shrugged. "A little." He kissed her sweetly, then got up to bring her the coffee.

"Thanks," she said quietly. She took a long, slow drink followed by a deep breath and a sigh. "I could get used to this," she mused.

"Uh… sorry, uh… I got called out of town. I'm going to Boston for a few days."

"You are? When?"

"Soon as I can book a flight. They think they have a serial killer, they want me to, you know…" He glanced away and again, the picture of Alex and Joe caught his eye. He turned back to her. "You gonna be all right?" he asked.

"Of course," she said, and took another drink of the coffee. "I've got some errands to do, anyway. Take some things to the dry cleaners, you know, that sort of thing."

* * *

Bobby only called once the whole time he was gone. He got totally wrapped up in the case, and called her just before he boarded the plane to come home.

"I missed you," he said.

It didn't feel that way to Eames. She'd felt alone again, and so she had turned back to the things that always brought her comfort. Her routine. She exercised, she did her job, she cleaned her house. She didn't think much about Bobby, or Joe, or any other man. In fact, the only clear thought she'd had about her relationship with Bobby was the one that reminded her they were good friends, and good partners, and she didn't want to get hurt. As lovers, they were walking a tightrope. There was a lot they were risking to be together. And as she'd learned with Joe, that rope could break so easily, in an instant everything could be destroyed.

She wasn't sure she could handle losing Bobby. When Joe had been killed, she'd wanted to lay down and die, too.

"I was thinking of coming over," Bobby said.

"N-no, Bobby, you're probably tired of living out of your suitcase. Go home, freshen up. I'll see you on the job tomorrow."

"You're sure?"

"Yeah."

"I love you, Alex."

She bit her lip. All of a sudden, she was afraid to say it. "You too," she finally spat out.

* * *

Goren thought about her on the flight back, and he thought maybe he'd been wrong. Maybe Joe had still been on her mind. And everything felt foreign, all of a sudden. He was her lover, but suddenly he wasn't sure where he stood.

A cold front had moved in while he was in Boston, and he'd been forced to buy a winter coat. He'd left his wool one in the city, still refusing to believe it wasn't spring. Subzero temperatures had prompted him to purchase a down-filled winter coat that had a fur-lined hood. It looked a little ridiculous, but it was warm. He carried it over his arm through the airport and pulled it on just before he went to retrieve his car from long-term parking.

* * *

The cold snap had forced Alex to jog on a treadmill in the gym instead of out on the streets, where she preferred to run. Even in the gym, she wore a sweatshirt. It seemed that the cold just seeped right into the room through the windows.

She worked up a sweat and stopped to pick up her clothes at the dry cleaners on the way home. Alex paid, and took the ticket and all the hangars in hand, then drove straight home. She laid the blouses out on her bed, and her brow furrowed. One of her blouses was missing. She went through the stack again, checking both sides this time, and it simply wasn't there.

She showered and got ready for work. Then she headed back out to United Cleaners. Alex told the woman about the missing blouse.

"Why would I want your clothes?" the woman asked as she hurried behind the counter.

"I'm just saying maybe someone made a mistake." Alex handed over the ticket, and the woman read it.

"A blouse. Red silk."

Alex's phone rang, and she pulled it out of her pocket.

"Sorry. Maybe you misplaced it."

"I didn't misplace it," said Eames, as she pushed the button to answer the phone. "Eames," she said, turning away from the counter. "What?" She listened for a moment. "I'll be right there." She turned back to the woman behind the counter. "Look, I have to go. If it should turn up—"

"Not gonna turn up, we cleaned it and you picked it up."

Alex sighed. She took her ticket back from the woman. "If it should turn up, please call me."

"Okay," the lady said, but her singsong voice was completely insincere.

With a frown, Alex went back out into the cold.

Bobby noticed the way she carried herself, and he wondered if she was all right. Again, he thought maybe he should have stayed in town. Maybe this thing with Joe was hitting her hard, and he'd been too blind to see it.

There wasn't an opportunity to ask, though. They had a body on the bank next to the East River. "People saw him from the road," the lead officer informed Bobby as they walked closer. "When I got down here, I recognized him."

"Then it's Burnham."

"Yeah, the guy I see on TV."

"It's him," confirmed Eames. She was in her down coat, too, and she even had a knit cap to keep her ears warm.

"Well, what's it been, 10 years?" asked M.E. Rodgers, who had also braved the cold.

"I was the lead detective on his wife's murder," Alex replied, answering Rodgers while filling her partner and the officer on scene in.

"Whole country was rooting for this guy's conviction," said the officer.

"We tried," Alex said, and bent over with her hands in her pockets to see what Bobby was finding.

"From wife killer to TV celebrity," the guy mused. "Go figure."

"Looks like it's from an intermediate range," Goren said of the bullet wound on the man's forehead. "It's a good aim."

"Yeah, first guess… .380?" said Rodgers.

"This here, it looks like hematosis," Bobby told them, pointing out a swirled red mark on the man's arm. "You know, a jellyfish sting."

"No jellyfish in the East River," said Eames, her face screwing up in thought."

"They never found his wife, did they?" asked Rodgers. Eames shook her head. Rodgers gave a nod, as well. "Someone did some nasty surgery," she announced.

Goren pulled the top of the bodybag back further and they saw that the man's penis had been cut off.

"Oh… you're kidding," said Eames, looking away.

"Nice saving the best for last," Rodgers said with a grin.

"Looks like they made him into a charismatic."

"A what?" Alex asked Bobby.

"Ancient Rome, you know… young boys, slaves… they'd… do a total removal of all their genitals. They called them charismatics."

Just then a suit walked up and joined them. The guy's head was ducked against the cold. "Son of a bitch, it is him," he said, stopping right next to Eames. "ADA, Kevin Mulrooney," he announced to the group, still looking down on the victim. "Sorry, two lanes were closed on the Verrazano." He finally looked over and did a doubletake when he saw Eames. "Alexandra?" he asked.

She nodded. "You're back in the DA's office?"

"This month," he replied quickly.

"I don't think this is the crime scene," announced Goren, purposely trying to shove aside his curiosity about Eames and her relationship with this new ADA.

"Why?" asked Mulrooney. "Are we ignoring the possibility that he was killed here and dumped in the river?"

Goren gaped at the guy for a minute. Already, he didn't like him. "He was stung by a jellyfish," Goren explained.

Mulrooney looked to Eames, who said, matter-of-fact, "Jellyfish aren't found in fresh water."

"So, he was shot, then he got stung," said the ADA, as he walked around past Eames to Bobby's side.

"If he was stung after his death, the immune system would just not react. There would be no red mark," Goren explained. "No, he was definitely stung, then shot."

"So, you're saying he took off all his clothes, got in freezing cold water, then he got out, and someone shot him." Mulrooney looked up at Goren. "I have problems with that." He chuckled a little.

Bobby grinned, too, and looked over at his partner. Alex didn't seem herself today, so Bobby carried the conversation. "So Burnham's missing wife, she wasn't a big woman," Goren tossed over to Eames.

"About my size," Alex said.

"So it would have taken somebody much bigger to move his body from wherever he was shot to here," Bobby explained to the ADA.

"Plus, she's dead. I prosecuted the case," Mulrooney told him.

"And lost." There was a cutting edge to Alex's tone.

"Maybe if the cops found her body…" Mulrooney dug back.

Eames shot the man a look, and Bobby saw it. He stared Mulrooney down, too.

"Hey, come on," said the ADA. "Let's all get on the same page."

Eames threw Goren a look that was half-headroll, half eye-roll. She was done with this guy.

"The guy had enemies," Mulrooney was saying. "And… the possibility, oh, uh, this is something random."

"Or you should take a look at the little man behind the curtain," Eames announced. She pulled the top of the bodybag back.

"Geez…" Mulrooney said, disgusted. He glanced up at Eames.

"It has the look of something very personal."

For a moment, it looked like the ADA would be sick. He turned away and walked a couple of paces toward the river. Goren seemed satisfied with the way Eames had handled things. Eames was still cross. She shook her head, disgusted with Mulrooney, and got back to the business of their case.

"We should talk to his wife, establish the timeline."

"Yeah, sure," Goren agreed. They gave some instructions to the team and then went to Alex's SUV.

"Some guy," Bobby said as they started to drive away.

She scoffed. "Yeah."

"You have some… bad blood between you?"

"It was a nasty case, Bobby, and we lost. You know how that feels."

He shrugged and gave a nod. "Look, uh, Alex, I'm sorry I ducked out of town like that. I guess I should have stayed."

"What?"

"I don't know, you seem… you seem different, and I guess maybe what with Joe and everything—"

"It has nothing to do with that," she said. "I'm just… I don't know, Bobby. I just think maybe I need some time, some space. Maybe I just need to think about things a little."

He was very quiet. He gave her a nervous nod. "And that's got… nothing… to do with Joe."

"No. Well, okay, maybe yes. And I'm not calling things off, Bobby, please don't think that. I just, I think I need a little space."

"You're not calling it off."

"No."

"Feels like it."

She sighed. "Bobby, there have been times when you needed space, and I—"

"All right, okay," he said, lifting his hands in the air. "You need space, you got space."

* * *

It seemed like every question they asked Mrs. Burnham was fielded by her friend. "What, you came here to gloat?" the guy said to them. Alex was standing, and Bobby sat in a chair, taking notes in his binder which lay open on the coffee table. Burnham and her friend sat on opposite sections of the L-shaped sofa.

"Let them talk, Max," Burnham said, holding her fist up to her temple. She hugged her sweater tight to her body.

"You weren't around, then," he said. "You don't know what she put him through." He stared at Eames.

Bobby glanced up at her, checking that she was all right. He turned his head to the grieving widow. "Does he have to be here?" he asked her. He looked at Eames and asked the same question. "Does he have to be here?"

Eames looked straight at Max. "Do you have to be here?"

"I work… with Boz. And Martha _asked me_ to be here."

"Work," said Eames.

"Boz had a deal in place for his own show. Reexamining cases where people are… uh, unjustly accused by people like you." He nodded at Eames again, and Bobby glanced her way quickly, then shook his head.

"When was the last time you saw your husband, Mrs. Burnham?" Goren asked.

"This morning, around five," she said through tears. She leaned forward, and Max quickly handed her the box of tissues. "I didn't want him to go, I always worried when he did this."

"Right, did what?"

"Every year on Boz's birthday, we'd all go for a swim at Atlantic Beach."

The detectives looked at each other. "Atlantic Beach," Eames repeated. "Were you with him?" Alex asked.

"I should have been. But I got a call saying my son was in an accident, and in the hospital. Turns out it was some stupid joke." He sat back and folded his arms.

"So he wasn't in the hospital," said Bobby.

Max shook his head. "It must've been some bim my kid was partying with."

"A woman?" Goren asked.

"If I knew who she was, I'd ring her neck," said Max.

"Who else was invited to this swim?" asked Goren.

"Craig O'Keefe." She started to cry again.

Alex shook her head. "Mmm, it's déjà vu all over again."

"How many times did I say it Craig?" the man's wife asked him. "Boz Burnham is an SOB and up to no good."

Goren stood in front of their fridge, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he listened.

"Give it a rest, Paula," said Craig.

Eames stood to his right, at the edge of the living room. "Let me guess, you work for Boz, too."

"Yeah. Kept his appointments, schedule, stuff like that."

"You with him, uh… for the birthday swim?" Goren asked.

"Not with him, no. I had to spend the night in Jersey."

"Craig was in Secaucus getting offices ready for Boz's new production company."

Bobby walked forward, closer to Craig. "And that took all night?" Eames asked.

"Grabbed a few hours of sleep in a motel, and then I went straight to Atlantic Beach. But I was late. So… no Boz, no Maxie."

"Atlantic Beach, how did you know where to find him?"

"Mohawk Avenue entrance. It's… it's the same every year."

* * *

The beach was deserted, save for the constant chirping of seagulls. The detectives were bundled up again. The ocean breeze would bring with it a nasty wind chill factor.

"Twenty degrees with the wind chill," Alex complained. "People are crazy to do this."

"This must be the clothes," Goren said, walking quickly toward Boz's discarded coat. They glanced at it and walked quickly past, toward the water. "Something at the… tide line over there." They kept walking toward the something. "There's tracks here… too close together to be a car, right?"

"People ride dune buggies out here," she replied.

Bobby turned to look at the tracks a moment, then turned back. "Yep."

Eames picked up a crumpled white towel, frozen that way from the cold. "This towel, he used this. It was wet." The underside of the towel had a red stain. "There's blood."

"So I guess he would have been in the water, come out, grabbed the towel, started to dry himself off as he… walked towards the clothes."

She walked away from Bobby. "Okay, and they must have been right here," she said, spinning around.

"Yep." Goren looked around, and saw something in the sand several paces away. He walked toward it. "This looks like blood," he said, carefully lifting a broken bottle top from the beach.

Alex joined him. She looked at the object, then tossed her head about. "So where is his…"

"Killer might have took it, you know? A fetish?" Bobby paused a minute and tossed out another possibility. "Seagulls are always hungry. Could be anywhere."

Alex couldn't keep from grinning. It was funny, to be pondering the whereabouts of a penis. "I'm gonna call CSU. We've got ourselves a crime scene."


	42. Chapter 42

Chapter 42

The TV displayed the last report given by their victim. He was speaking to the camera as he walked a street in Rockaway.

"Mitch, left his CPA office in Rockaway at 7 p.m. Now, having lived in Rockaway, I'm familiar with every possible route into the city. Leaving Mitch's office at 7, I was never able to get here…"

"So Mitch Muldaur may owe a big thanks to you, Boz," Faith Yancy told him onscreen.

"I know what it feels like to be falsely accused," he replied. "But I'll have more for you, next week."

The Detectives were watching it in the Captain's office. "Nyah, I don't think so…" Bobby snarked quietly.

"What about Boz's current wife?" Ross asked.

"Well, her doorman said she never left the building," answered Bobby. "But his friend, Craig O'Keefe, says he pulled an all-nighter in New Jersey."

"We think he may be lying, possibly for his wife's benefit," Alex said. "We'll have him brought in."

Ross was quiet for a moment, thinking. He glanced up at Goren for half a second, then looked over at Eames and back to Goren. "You mind giving us a minute?" he asked.

Goren knew something was up. His eyes flitted to Alex, but he stepped out of the room, closing the door behind him. Ross circled around behind his desk. "Okay, I want you to bring Nichols and Wheeler up to speed on this case."

"Captain," she protested.

"I'm not making it official, but…" He leveled his gaze at her, "I want you to withdraw."

"I thought this might, uhm… I don't agree." She took two steps closer to him.

"You worked the trial, it makes sense you'd have personal feelings." He paused and she started to shake her head. "An IEB complaint was filed against you for confronting Burnham in a courtroom hallway."

"Yes," she said firmly. "Boz Burnham was joking about his murdered wife in front of her parents."

Ross nodded. He understood. He really did. "It's about perception."

She took in a deep breath. "Because I'm not grieving… for Boz Burnham? Are you?"

"No, of course not," Ross said, and looked away.

"Right. A murder victim is a murder victim. Our… personal feelings about them don't matter. At least that's the way I've always worked a case."

They stared at each other. "You've made your point," he conceded.

"Is this coming from the DA's office?" she asked.

He couldn't answer her directly without getting into hot water. "I'll tell them you're the best I've got," he said.

She nodded. "I appreciate that."

They gave each other a respectful nod, and Alex went out to the squad room.

"Uh, what was that?" Bobby asked.

She frowned and shook her head. "That… was… the past, coming to haunt me." She sighed and looked back at the Captain's door, then shook her head again. "The DA's office asked him to take me off it."

Bobby cocked his head.

"I convinced the Captain not to."

Silently, Goren gave her a nod.

* * *

They didn't make much progress that day. The ME's office was backed up, and she didn't have a report for them yet. Even bringing in Craig O'Keefe for questioning got postponed. Frustrated, they decided to call it a night. Alex told Bobby she wanted to be alone.

Alex wasn't sure what it was. Something felt wrong. She walked through her apartment, stress receptors firing at will. She tried to shake off the feeling. For some reason, post-traumatic stress was rearing its ugly head. That's all it was. There wasn't anything wrong. Nothing seemed out of place.

Well, the picture… the wedding picture she kept on the dresser… but she could have bumped it when she got ready in the morning without realizing it.

Alex folded her arms and shivered. She really and truly felt like someone had been in her apartment. She tried to talk herself out of it again, chalking it up to PTSD from her abduction, but it wasn't working.

All of a sudden, she yanked a drawer open and started going through it. She shut that one and tried another. When she got to her lingerie drawer, she stopped. Something was missing. A pair of panties. Tan ones, with lace. She rooted through the entire drawer again. They were nowhere to be found.

Alex went back to the living room. She picked up her weapon and checked it. Then she took it to the bedroom with her.

* * *

Goren stared at the ceiling. She was right. There had been lots of times he'd asked her for space, and she'd always given it to him. He had to do the same for her.

But he didn't like it. He quietly cursed himself for going to Boston. If he'd stayed, he could have been with her when this, whatever, whatever these thoughts were, came up. He could have talked sense to her. He could have stayed by her side.

Instead, everything was upside down. He felt like a ping-pong ball, first on one side, now on the other, on the net, rolling off the table. He hated it.

And he was worried about her, too. He wondered what kind of thinking she was doing over there, all by herself. Those fears he'd had before she shared the wedding album resurfaced. Maybe he just didn't measure up.

Bobby shook his head and rolled over. No. He couldn't think like that.

_I'm a good man,_ he told himself. _I'm a good friend, a good cop. I'm a good man and I love you, Alex Eames,_ he thought. He sighed. _I just hope you can see it._

* * *

At 8:20 a.m., after only one cup of coffee, they were in the morgue. Eames stood over Burnham's body, listening to Elizabeth Rodgers. Bobby was over by the window, looking through a magnifying glass at something that caught his interest.

"The edges where the genitalia were cut away are rough." She lifted the sheet. "See, the tissue's actually been sawed."

"No question he was dead when that happened," Alex commented.

"Done in the spur of the moment or an afterthought?" Bobby wondered.

"My gut was right, a .380 lodged against the back of the skull."

Bobby stepped closer, his hands on his hips. "We'll need angle of entry," he said, trading places with Eames.

"I would guess eye level with the shooter, hits him standing, maybe approaching."

"It was all carefully planned until this," called out Alex, who was looking over the photographs of where his penis had been. "Why the sudden loss of control?"

Goren nodded. That was the question of the day. He pondered a moment and said quietly, "Maybe…seeing him dead offered something very fulfilling… an ultimate act of vengeance."

Alex walked over to Bobby's side. "We know a lot about his past. Maybe we should take a look at his present."

* * *

Each one noticed the bags under the other's eyes. Neither spoke a word of it. Their shields granted them access to the control room for the television newscast, and a very quick window to interview Faith Yancy.

"What can I say? The guy's a charmer." Yancy was a big personality, and not just in the city. She was well-known across the nation for her big-news, investigative reporting. Major Case had crossed paths with her before. She didn't really care about the truth, only about sensationalism and grabbing the viewer's attention. She continued to talk to them as she went out to the floor. "Last Christmas, he showed up with Tiffany bracelets for all the secretaries."

"And what was Boz's salary?" Bobby asked as they followed her.

"200 last year as a consultant."

"200 thousand?!" Eames asked.

"Why not?" replied the newswoman. "Anytime he was on, my ratings went through the roof. Now we're gonna have to find something else for Tuesdays at 10. I'm running short on time," she said, trying to wave them away.

"Now… was he particularly close to anyone here?" Bobby asked, circling around her anchor desk.

"Like women?"

"Yeah." Bobby put his hand on her chair, and next thing you know, he was sitting in it.

"No question he was a flirt, but he was devoted to Martha. She sometimes came to his tapings."

"25 seconds," called out one of the workers.

"Could be she didn't trust him," said Eames.

Bobby had discovered the monitor that displayed what was being recorded. He gave the camera his best anchorman look.

"Look, you obviously have some prejudice that I just don't share," Yancy told Eames. "He told me that life had given him a second chance and he would never blow that. I believed him."

Bobby was studying his likeness on the screen.

"Now I have to sit down," Yancy said to Goren.

"Ten seconds!"

Bobby gestured to the monitor. "Were you in the room… with him… when he told you that?" he asked, giving his best newsanchor posture and expression.

"I'm not gonna dignify that with a response," Yancy declared.

"In five, four, three…"

"You just did," said Goren as he vacated her seat. He and Eames quickly stepped away, and Bobby ducked under the camera while Faith began her newscast. He couldn't keep a smile off his face. Alex gave him a proud smile, too.

"So now it makes sense how he got the job," commented Eames quietly as they left.

* * *

Mulrooney showed up unexpectedly in the squad room. Eames led him quickly to a conference room.

"I made the trip to see what sort of headway you've made," Kevin said.

"You could have just called," she said quietly.

"Okay, guilty, you got me." They stopped outside the conference room door. "I wasn't opposed to spending some time with you."

Eames dropped her hands to her side. She glanced around the bullpen quickly. She didn't want any of her coworkers to overhear _that._ Especially Bobby. Swiftly, she ducked into the room and Mulrooney followed.

"We… worked a case together," Alex said. They both caught a glimpse of Goren talking to someone in the squad room.

"And?"

"You… were a friend when I needed a friend, and… I appreciate that."

"Appreciate. That makes it sound like I let you ahead of me in line at Starbucks."

"Things changed with us," she said, and Bobby spotted them. He stared through the glass and headed for the door.

He glanced at Alex, then turned away, then turned back. "Should I come back?" he asked, noticing the distressed look on her face, and the ADA's folded arms.

"No, no, it's uh, it's fine." Alex seemed almost eager for Bobby to come in. Maybe he could rescue her from this uncomfortable conversation. "What have you got?" she asked, scratching her head and walking over to her partner.

He came in and plopped his binder down on the conference table. There was a certain set to his jaw, but Alex didn't seem to notice it. "The… charting of the river currents," he said, "it's likely that Boz was dumped off City Island." He pointed to the spot on the chart, circling his finger in a circle around the island.

"Oh," ejaculated Mulrooney. "Vacation capital of the world." Eames frowned at the remark, and Mulrooney smirked. "Keep me up to date," he said, and left them alone.

He'd hit her with that one. Alex's lips were tight with anger.

Goren's were too, but for a wholly different reason. With one hand perched on his hip, he stared at his partner, his friend… his lover. His eyes drifted away. "Is there a problem?" he asked, without moving a muscle.

She was looking down, slowly shaking her head. After a moment, she nodded. "Joe and I rented a weekend place up there after we were married."

"Mmm-hmmm." Bobby looked down, straightened the chart and closed his binder. "And how would Mulrooney know that?" he demanded. He tucked the binder under his arm and waited for her answer.

Alex looked down again. "Uh… Boz Burnham was the first case I worked… after Joe's death, it's… a… time in a person's life when… they need to talk about things." She looked up at Bobby, nodded at him hopefully.

"You slept with him?" Goren asked.

Alex gaped. She felt like he'd just punched her in the gut. Before she had the chance to let loose on Bobby, the Captain interrupted them. "Dave brought in Craig O'Keefe," he announced. "Interrogation one."

Bobby looked at the Captain, then back at Eames. He still wanted an answer to his question. She just pursed her lips and walked by him, out the door.

Eames went to the interrogation room quickly, but Bobby took his time. He was upset with her, and he needed to get his feelings out of the way so he could focus on the case. She'd already started with the usual questions. He paced the room quietly, listening, and then swooped in, put his arm around Craig as if they were best buddies. "So… you have several women, or just the one?" Bobby flopped into the seat beside the man and gave him a grin.

"What?"

"We understand you had to lie in front of your wife," Alex explained.

Bobby folded his arms on the table and leaned forward. "I mean, who was she?" he asked. "She would make a good alibi."

"I love my wife."

Goren nodded. "Right. And…you'd never… you know, do anything like this."

"Fact is, I never got lucky." He looked over at Bobby. "This woman, a redhead, I met her that night at a bar… Murray's. She invited me to party." Goren got to his feet. "What, you think she was involved?" he asked both detectives.

"Do you?" Alex asked, and Bobby paused in his pacing, right behind Craig.

"Geez, I don't know."

"So you went back to her place?"

"All I know is I woke up in room 216 at the Clinton Hotel on 10th avenue. I swear to God I don't remember a damn thing after Murray's." Goren nodded. That sounded like the truth. "Look," Craig continued, "Can we keep this quiet?" Bobby almost chuckled. Eames looked up at him. They were all the same, infidels. She sighed and shook her head. He turned to Goren, but Bobby's smile disappeared and he gave the man a stern nod.

* * *

Goren was very quiet in the car. Eames knew why, but she didn't want to talk about it, and so she remained quiet, too. Eames got a key from the hotel clerk and Bobby followed her into room 216. She stopped and turned on the light, and he walked past her.

"Well, here's an upside to the economic downturn," she said. "Hotel rooms go unrented, beds go unmade… maybe there'll actually be some evidence." They started poking around the room.

"Yeah, Max said that a woman called him… to tell him about his son, you know."

"Craig's redhead?"

Bobby lifted his hands as if to say "I don't know." He caught a glimpse of something and leaned over to look. Then he walked forward and retrieved a blouse from just under the bed. "Would a redhead wear a red blouse?" he asked, picking it up in his gloved fingers. He tossed it onto the bed. Alex was drawn to the shirt. "It's a rhetorical question," he added.

"Uh, I'm sorry, it's just that I had… uh, have… the same shirt." She probed the shirt with her hands.

"You mean one like it," Bobby said, and went into the bathroom to look around.

Alex held it up in front of her. She curled the neck and read the label. "Same size, same label," she muttered. At the sound of Bobby's voice, she put the blouse down.

"Swizzle stick," he announced, and held it up. "Lion's Rock, Second Avenue," he read.

"I know that place," she said suddenly. Alex was getting that creepy feeling again. The same feeling she'd had in her apartment the night before.

Goren looked into her eyes. He wasn't sure why, but there was something throwing her off-kilter. He didn't ask her about it until they were back on the road. "You know this place because…?"

"It's, uh… I spent a lot of time there after Joe died."

"…with… Mulrooney."

"Yes." She was so tense she was stiff as a board. "Yes, that's where we used to… to talk."

Bobby didn't say another word. He nodded, and when they got to the bar, he followed her in.

"I wondered what became of you," the bartender said as they walked in.

"Uh, I got busy at work."

"Yeah, that's what your friend said."

"My friend. Mmm."

"He still comes in here. He's in the DA's office now?"

"Yep." They stopped walking at the end of the bar.

Bobby came around behind her and scratched his ear before he spoke. "So we need to know about a redhead. You know, possibly wearing a red blouse the night before last."

Alex's phone rang as the bartender started to answer the question.

"Ah, I wasn't here. That, uh, would be Danny's night." Goren nodded, and was about to turn it over to Alex, but she answered her phone and walked away.

"Eames. Hello, yes. You got something for me?"

He watched her with concern, and then leaned in toward the bartender a little. Bobby smiled at the guy and slapped his palm against the bartop. He pointed at the bartender. "She's somethin', huh?"

"Yeah."

Bobby leaned forward on one elbow. "I been trying to, uh…" Goren seemed tongue tied. "You know, her friend, the one that talks about her…can you tell me anything?" he asked. "Like anything I…"

The bartender moved away and stared at the glasses under the bar.

"Come on, I know, you're a bartender, right? Tight lips, big tips, right?"

The man glanced back at Eames and then turned toward Goren. "All right, I been there," he said. He checked over his shoulder again, and put his hands against the wooden bartop. "Look, she and Mulrooney used to come in and sit at that table over there for hours. She'd talk, he'd listen." He shrugged. "She was going through something." He looked down as he thought. "White wine, bourbon rocks. I never forget a drink."

Bobby nodded letting the scene settle in his memory. He tilted his head. "She likes wine," he told the bartender.

"She was the bourbon," the guy said.

"Oh," Goren said with a surprised smile on his face.

"Between you and me, I wouldn't worry. He still comes in, but… he's always alone."

Goren soaked that information in, and gave the guy an appreciative and somewhat hopeful smile. "Thanks," he said as he straightened up to walk out. He clapped the bartender on the shoulder.

"You got it."

Alex came back toward him, holding up a napkin she'd written her information on. "We got a hit on the ATV rental at Rockaway. Uh…" she referred to her note. "Rented by a woman, a redhead."

Bobby stood before her, reading her note upside down as she told him about it. "Mmm-hmm."

"Gabrielle Roth. She didn't leave an address, but she paid with a debit card from East Manhattan Savings." They started to walk toward the door, arm against arm, as close as partners could get.

"So you okay?" he asked quietly.

"I'm fine," she answered, a little too quickly. They took another step, and she looked over at him. "Find out everything you wanted to know?" She pulled the door, and then he pushed it from the other side, turning toward her. "About me?"

Bobby smiled a little. He nodded emphatically. "Everything," he said, and gestured for her to go first through the door. "Bourbon, huh?" he said, holding the door until she had cleared it.

She turned back to him with a smile on her own lips. "Bourbon," she repeated.

Bobby let his hand brush against hers before he paused at the car. Alex glanced up at him in alarm. He'd managed to make it seem nonchalant, but she knew he'd done it on purpose. Bobby gave her a quick smile and then got into his seat.

* * *

They pulled up the bank information on the computer. "Gabrielle Roth's files," Eames was saying. "She opened up a checking account last week, deposited $3,000 cash."

"Check the personal information," Goren said. He had a theory in his mind, but it was too soon to say anything to Eames about it.

Alex punched in the command on the keyboard, and the information popped up. They both read her address. Eames was shocked.

"Look what she put for a home address," Alex said.

Bobby read the address aloud. "That's your address," he said.

Eames threw him a confounded look.

"Why do you think the redhead used your address?" Goren asked.

Eames sighed. "Hell if I know. I'm gonna… I gotta…" she jerked her thumb in the air. "I'm gonna call it a night, Bobby. Maybe I'll have some ideas in the morning."

He looked on her with concern. "You, uh… you're sure you wanna be alone?" he asked quietly.

Her expression hardened. "Yeah, I'm fine. You know, I'm… it's okay, Goren."

He was still worried about her, but her use of his last name had the same effect as pushing him away with a 10-foot pole. "Okay," he said with a little nod.

She tried to muster up a smile, but it only looked like she was in pain. "Bye, Bobby."

"Good night," he said.


	43. Chapter 43

Chapter 43

To say he didn't sleep well would be an understatement. Goren had half a mind to drive over and stake out her apartment. He knew someone was tormenting her. He'd already put that much together. When Jo Gage had abducted her, he hadn't had a clue. This time, he knew, _he knew_ someone had her in their sights.

But Eames would never forgive him if he went over there now. He had to respect her wishes, even if it was tearing him up inside to do so.

So he tossed and turned all night, and went to Major Case an hour early. He pulled the deposition tapes from the Burnham case 10 years ago, and he took notes as he watched them.

Onscreen, Mulrooney was questioning the woman. "I just… wanna know if Boz's wife was cheating on him."

"Jenny? No way."

"You claim to be her best friend."

"Yeah, and as far as I knew, the marriage was okay. "

"Mmm-hmm. Detective Eames found a letter that she wrote in her desk. Do you know about that?"

"Yeah. It sounded like she was afraid of Boz."

"Just a few more questions for you."

Alex saw Bobby through the glass and marched across the bullpen to join him. She was surprised at what he was doing. "Uhm…"

Bobby clicked the pause button.

"What is this?" Eames asked him, looking at the screen.

"Well, there's things… current things that… still connect to the Burnham case."

"So you think there are answers in 10-year-old depositions?" She was trying to keep her emotions contained. She was breathing hard, her anxiety was up.

"Paula mentions this letter you never told me about."

"You know, maybe Ross should reassign this," Alex said suddenly. She started for the door.

"I'm asking questions, you know, that's what we do, right? We ask questions." He was worried about her, and he was angry with her, and he wasn't sure where he stood with her anymore. The anger was there in his tone.

She felt like she'd been called on the carpet. "Uh…the letter… she's talking about is…" Alex drew a breath, "something Jenny Burnham left in a sealed envelope in her office. It… said if something happens to me… Boz is responsible." Alex paused and nodded her head as she continued. "I'm the one who found it."

Bobby frowned. He got up and zipped his binder shut. "That should have convicted him," he said quietly.

"Except… the… defense experts successfully challenged the prosecution experts over Jenny's handwriting." She looked away from him.

"The lawyer suggested to the jury that you planted it."

She folded her arms across her chest. "Yes. It was… very effective."

"And you… still feel guilty?" he asked.

"You know, why are you taking this tone with me?" Alex's temper was finally getting the best of her. "You don't know how I feel!"

Goren looked up at the ceiling. He'd expected this kind of reaction, even if he'd hoped his prediction was wrong. He let his eyes drift down to hers, and listened.

"I did not plant… that letter." She refolded her arms and looked away from him again. Mouth closed, she ran her tongue over her teeth.

"When Mulrooney… left the DA's office…w-when he—when he lost the case… he was fired?"

"No. Not exactly. He-uhm, but his… career as a prosecutor was finished."

Goren rocked in place, cocked his head from one side to the other. He could see it, when would she? "So he had a… reason to obsess?" Goren could see it in her eyes. She was putting it all together, now, too.

"Well, that's crazy." Even as she said it, she realized it was possible. "Mulrooney might be irritating…" Alex swallowed hard. "…but a killer?"

"We should at least find out if he likes redheads," Bobby suggested, his voice much softer now. He left Alex to think about it and went back to his desk.

Alex was shaking. At first it had been nerves, and then it was anger, and next it was shock. She felt like her skin was crawling, and for a moment she thought about going back to Olivet, asking for a prescription to help her deal with these feelings.

She sank into the chair he'd been in, and she looked at the image of Kevin and Paula, still frozen on the TV screen. Her own words to the Captain popped into her head. _ A murder victim is a murder victim. Our personal feelings about them don't matter._ Wasn't that true about suspects, as well? Mulrooney had really helped her through that transition after Joe died. She was grateful to him for that, even if he was a jackass. She'd been letting her feelings of gratitude muddy the waters. Bobby was right. Mulrooney had motive. For the victim's sake, for justice's sake, they had to check into Kevin.

Finally, the shaking subsided. She got to her feet, ran her fingers through her hair, and walked purposefully back to her desk.

Bobby was leaning back in his chair, his ankle crossed over one knee, the binder balanced in his lap. He'd been reading through his notes.

"Okay. We'll pay him a visit, question him. See what shakes loose."

Goren zipped his binder shut.

* * *

Mulrooney was working at his desk. Alex sat in the chair across from him. Bobby hovered in the background, taking in what he could about the man, not only from what he said, but from the arrangement of things in his office.

"Whoever killed Boz… had to know about his birthday routine," Eames was saying.

"It's a wide net," Mulrooney replied, not bothering to look up from what he was writing. "I'll bet that Boz bragged about that birthday swim to anyone who'd listen."

"Well, I agree," she said. "We're on the wrong track." She looked back at Bobby when she said it. His nod seemed like agreement with her sentiment, but it was really encouragement for her work.

"So prosecutor… you've been in all kinds of law for…well, a while."

"Seven years," Alex said.

"It must be tough… being back here," Bobby continued. "Well, the average age here is like… well, they're kids, really. Twenty-eight, right?" Goren got to his feet.

"Yeah, I brought a little thing called experience." The ADA still didn't seem much interested in the detectives' questions. He continued to stare at the ledger he was writing on.

Bobby walked over to the closet and opened the door. "So, a closet?" he muttered. "He's got a closet! We don't have a closet," he called out to Eames.

Alex got up to go check it out, and Mulrooney suddenly got to his feet. "E-everyone keeps clothes for… court," Kevin explained.

"This is impressive, the way you have all the… colors in line, everything is so… wow." Bobby's voice trailed off, and Mulrooney quickly shut the closet door. Goren paced back to the other side of the office. He was getting an emotional response out of Kevin, now. It was just where he wanted him.

"Lilly Dillon West," Goren said, picking up a framed picture from a low shelf by the wall. "Now she was a paralegal during the Burnham case," he thought aloud.

"We started out here together," Kevin said, gesturing with his hand.

"Now she's the heir apparent to Jack McCoy. You think she'll get it?"

Mulrooney chuckled, his hands on his hips. "Lilly's paid her dues," he answered.

"You know, you could probably…I mean if you hadn't left you would probably…I would—" Bobby was interrupted by the ringing of the phone.

Mulrooney picked up the receiver. "Do you mind?" he said to them, a perturbed look on his face. "Yeah, Mulrooney." The ADA spun around and looked at the detectives again. "Do you mind?" he said again.

Eames headed for the door. Bobby set the picture back in place and followed her as Mulrooney spoke on the phone behind them.

* * *

Back at 1PP, Alex did a search of court records. "Seven years," she announced, "Mulrooney's not listed as counsel on any court documents." Bobby listened to her with interest. "A lawyer can eke out a living doing temp legal research, but… there's a gap in his life."

"His career died. Maybe he sat at home… watching Boz Burnham's career rise on TV."

"When he showed up at the East River, he complained about traffic on the Verrazano. You take the Verrazano from Staten Island. He used to talk about his dad, Harry Mulrooney, who lived on Staten Island."

Bobby's hand went up for a moment. "Well, maybe he knows something about those missing years." With a meaningful glance, the two were preparing to leave.

* * *

The old man invited them in. "I worked ladder 51. Thirty years," he said as he traversed the room. "They had to drag my butt out of there kicking and screaming."

"Wow. Fire department, prosecutor's office…it's just a family of public service," Goren said with a nod.

Mr. Mulrooney shrugged. "I don't trust anyone in a suit," he said, and gave Goren a gesture. "No disrespect."

"Oh, I'm with you on that," Bobby said, and shared a quick glance with Eames.

"Alexandra Eames," the old man said, pointing a finger in her direction.

"That's right."

"Yeah, I remember him talking about you. Honestly, I thought he made you up."

"Uh, that bad?" Alex asked with a smile.

Bobby gave her a long look. How could she think anyone, even Mulrooney, would say bad things about her? No, Eames certainly wasn't herself.

"No, no, but a woman cop, huh… I… hoped he was up to the challenge. Have a seat," he said, gesturing to the couch. "Who wants a beer?"

"Uh, you know, I'd love to, but…" Goren said apologetically.

"Right." He got his own beer and joined them, settling in on a chair in the living room. "Gals always liked Kevin, but there comes a time… when you gotta stop chasing skirts. No offense, but… his type was always…" he looked over at Eames, and Goren did, too. "But hey, nothing wrong with a woman who can handle a firearm."

Bobby's eyes were blank as he muted that voice inside him that was yearning to come to her defense.

The old man kept talking. He pointed a finger at Bobby. "Did he ever tell you I had him out at the range starting when he was six? And he was good. Then he goes on this 'ban guns' kick… My wife always took his side. She could be scary," Mulrooney confided in Goren. "Adele, she was one of the good ones." He pointed to his ceramic pint mug. "She brought this back from Galway for me."

Bobby shook his head politely. "Nothing like the… Irish coast."

"She still has people there. She used to visit once a year." He paused a moment and then asked Goren, "So what did he do?"

"Kevin?" Eames clarified. "Nothing. It's just a… routine check for the DA's office. He put you down as a reference."

He stared at her a moment. "Huh."

Bobby spoke up. "But… it doesn't seem like you see him very often."

"Not that much. He stopped coming once Adele…" The old man couldn't bring himself to say it. "The kind of closeness they had," he tried to explain, "was different than a father and son."

"Mmm-hmm," Bobby nodded, listening. They asked a few more questions, but they really didn't get anything else from the poor old man. Certainly, they got nothing about redheads.

Back in the car, Goren stared at Eames.

"What." She could feel his stare, but she was driving, and she wasn't about to divert her attention his way.

Bobby stared a little longer, then turned his head and drew in a noisy breath. "Just… thinkin'."

"Thinking."

"Yeah." They went another half a block, and Bobby wondered if Kevin held the same kind of feelings about women as his father. He wondered how he'd treated Alex when they'd dated. He wondered…again… if they'd slept together.

"Well, about what?" Alex demanded.

Bobby snapped out of it and shook his head. "You know, nothing about redheads."

"Well, you know that was a shot in the dark, anyway."

"I wish I could ask him about it."

"Who, Kevin?"

"Yeah."

"Bobby, you can't just come out and ask him. He'll know we suspect him."

"Maybe, maybe not."

"What are you planning?"

"Nothing. I just… I said I _wish_ I could ask him. Look, drop me at the next light. I've got some, you know, some errands."

She threw him a look that said she knew he wasn't being completely honest, and silently appealed to him not to do anything stupid.

"Good night, Eames," he said gently as he climbed out of the car.

"Bye, Bobby," she replied.

* * *

He could have hopped the train right away, but Bobby decided he'd better take a walk first. The more he thought about things, the more protective he was feeling of Alex. As they worked this case, he saw her anxiety, her sadness, and he wanted to swoop in and rescue her.

Bobby frowned. Everything was pointing to Kevin Mulrooney. More than coincidence. The blouse, the swizzle stick, City Island. Goren couldn't find the missing piece of the puzzle. The one that linked the redhead to Mulrooney. But he was sure he had the guy. Somehow, Mulrooney was behind it and he was getting his rocks off by trying to stick it to Eames.

Goren stopped in his tracks, and the wind picked up, prickling his skin. He turned on his heel and headed for Lion's Rock bar.

* * *

Mulrooney was down at the other end of the bar, sipping a white wine and looking introspective. Goren made it halfway, and a little voice in his head, a little voice that sounded a lot like Eames, almost stopped him. He stuck his hand out and slid it along the bar as he made it the rest of the way down the bar. Bobby put both hands on the ADA's back in greeting.

Mulrooney greeted him with a grunt.

Bobby reached down to pull out the stool a little. "Don't mind if I, uh…" He adjusted the stool and sat down. "Hello," Goren said to the bartender, who tossed a napkin in front of him.

"How you doin'?" the barkeep said.

"Very good, uh…" Bobby turned his head to Mulrooney. "Two, please. Thank you," he said, and the bartender walked away. "Thank you very much," he said. He saw a woman across the room. "Mmm," Bobby said and leaned toward Kevin. "Oof, oof, oof. Look at that… nice." She was a redhead. "Brum, bum, bum, bum…" he sang a tune. Goren grinned at Mulrooney, who chuckled. "She's… a little intimidating," he said. "She look a little intimidating to you?"

"It's the Versace. Underneath that, there's a scared little girl with fake breasts, skinny bottom, or nothing."

Goren pointed a finger at the ADA. "You… you… have been… victimized." Mulrooney laughed. "Yeah," said Goren.

The lawyer sighed. "Is this… about something?"

"Well, uh, Eames… you know, the case. I-I-I think that she was overzealous." Bobby looked away.

"Ancient history," said Mulrooney.

"She came out of the whole thing, you know…like, smelling like a rose. And then you get stuck in that…" he sniffed, "more like a cubicle… I mean—"

"Cubicle."

"But, I mean, you might as well be doing…" Bobby was overcome with laughter. "You might as well be in traffic court!" He laughed even louder.

Mulrooney chuckled with him, and then cleared his throat, looking down sadly. "Yeah… well…" He dropped some crumpled bills to the bartop. "I coulda won. Yep, she ever tell you how she blew her cross-examination?"

Bobby looked over with interest. "No, no… of course not, no."

Mulrooney took a deep breath. "Ruth Petrie… was an eyewitness." He took a big gulp of his wine. "She saw Boz loading garbage bags into the trunk of his car. The night that Jenny disappeared, okay? Ruth was… uh, a little confused… she-she-she missed, uh…she messed up the date, uh…the-the model of the car. But… she corrected herself."

"Mm-hmm."

S-so all that Eames had to do… was… overlook Ruth's previous mistakes." He put his glass down and stared at Bobby.

"Uh…I-uh, I don't know… I don't know…" Bobby shook his head and ran his hand over his face.

Mulrooney sighed. "I gotta go," he said. He drank some more of his wine and put the glass down.

"All right, well… okay."

"Thanks for the drink." The lawyer patted Goren on the back and headed out. The ADA stopped to drop kisses on the face of a blonde near the front door. She walked out with him.

* * *

Goren went back to 1PP, and found Alex was still there. He walked to his desk and pulled out the chair. "You know… Mulrooney doesn't…simply blame… Boz… for his life's failing… he blames _you_ for losing the trial." Goren folded his hands and kept his head down. He wasn't sure how she was going to receive his theory.

"Uh…" Alex turned her head. She felt like Bobby was joining in with the rest of them, throwing the guilt of losing the Burnham case on her, too. She held in her anger. "You're a hell of a detective."

She wasn't the only one who was angry. "Well, that's only part of it, I mean… there's-there's everything that you… haven't _told_ me."

Alex rested her head on her hand. She shook her head. "What haven't I told you?"

"I asked if you slept with him and you didn't answer me." There. It was out there, now. And she could think he was jealous or whatever, but he'd asked her point blank this time, and he wasn't going to back off without an answer. He looked up at her.

Alex kept her head turned. At first, she wanted to shout out that it was none of his business, but the memories of his hands on her, of him… inside her… came to the forefront. It _was_ his business. If he was her lover, it was. She shook her head again. "I didn't." It was only a little more than a whisper. "Uhm…" She was struggling, now, trying to find courage to tell him. She stared at her desktop, and her expression saddened. "But I would have," she finally said.

Bobby was relieved that she wasn't trying to hide anything anymore. He nodded in encouragement, and listened carefully.

"But before anything could happen, we were hit with a pile of motions, the trial started…" Alex crossed her hand over her mouth and scratched her lower lip. "And… whatever… we felt for each other… soured." Her hand went to her temple and she made eye contact with him.

Bobby thought for a moment. He was relieved by her honesty, but he was still troubled by everything about the case. "Well, I'm concerned," he told her.

Alex saw the truth in his expression, and it made her scramble to think it all through again. She looked up at him. "For me?"

"Yeah." She seemed surprised. "I think he's unstable." His eyes met hers again, and she nodded gravely. Bobby was a lot of things to her, but first and foremost he was her friend. If he was concerned, that was sincere. She accepted what he said, and tried to ignore the chill that went up her spine.


	44. Chapter 44

Chapter 44

Alex locked herself in, and that creepy feeling overtook her once again. It had been hard, very hard, to tell Bobby to stay away tonight. She knew he was worried about her, and she wanted to be with him, but not like this. She didn't want him rescuing her from her emotions. She wanted him, but on her terms.

So she'd told him to give her space, and had come home to an apartment where everything seemed almost untouched.

It felt like there were spiders all over her skin. The figurine her mother had given her seemed like it was turned a little too far to the left. And her perfume decanter. It looked like it wasn't screwed on quite right. And the photograph. Her and Joe smiling over champagne glasses, and it seemed a little closer to the wall than it had been this morning.

Alex hugged herself tighter. She was losing her mind. Maybe a call to Olivet wasn't such a bad idea.

The doorbell rang and she nearly jumped out of her skin. She tried to pull herself together and checked the peephole. It was Bobby, standing outside, scratching his head with one hand while the other one rested on his hip.

She pulled the chain and unlocked the door. Alex pulled it open. "Bobby, what—"

"I, uh… I just…" he maneuvered himself in such a way that she had to let him in. Alex let go the doorknob in frustration and walked to the couch, hugging herself again. She dropped into the seat and tried to mask her emotions.

That concern flashed over his face again. Bobby turned and shut the door. He locked it, as if he knew she would be completely unsettled if it were open. "Uhm… Alex?"

"Yeah," she said, barely finding her voice.

He swallowed. "Uh, you said… you said we, you know, that it, it's not over… between us."

"That's right, Bobby." Still with arms folded. Still closed off from him.

"So I figured you wouldn't mind, then, if I came by for, you know, for a while."

She took a deep, shaky breath. "Well, I don't know if I'm up for it, Bobby."

He nodded and looked around, that same stoic expression on his face again. "Well, then I won't stay long." He took a few steps and sat beside her on the couch. She leaned a little away from him.

A wave of compassion washed over him. "Alex," he said. "Alex, I know this is difficult for you, but… you know…" He lost his words and sighed heavily. "A long time ago, you sat with me… kind of like this. And you said something to me… I'll never forget."

She raised her eyes to meet his.

Bobby reached out and found her fingers. "You know I'm with you, right? Every step."

Her breathing was fast, and she was trying hard to keep from losing control. "I can't, Bobby, you know? I can't…"

"Alex, it doesn't mean you're weak. It's just… I want to…" He pulled her into an embrace.

At first she resisted him, but she sank against him and she almost sobbed. Alex gulped for breath and pulled away. "I can't… not now… not tonight…"

His brow furrowed, and he bit his bottom lip. Bobby ran the back of his fingers across her cheek and then got to his feet. "Okay, uh… okay," he said quietly. He walked to the door and gave one more quick glance around the room. "Every step, Alex," he repeated, and then he left.

She forced herself to her feet, stumbled over to the door and locked it. After that, in private, Alex Eames cried.

* * *

Bobby's mind worked the case all night. He knew what he needed to do. He had a good idea of what he would find, too. In the morning, he went straight to evidence lock-up. He left a voicemail on Eames' phone to tell her he wouldn't be in right away.

The good thing about the Burnham case was that because of its high profile, there was a high interest in the pieces of evidence. The technician who was helping him retrieve the boxes and bags was so familiar with the evidence that she had the tag numbers memorized.

Bobby was moving through it all, one piece at a time. He was examining things and checking them off on his list. "I need his wife's letter," Goren told the officer who was helping him.

"Oh, that would be People's 18," she said, and checked the box she'd just brought in. She opened the top and reached inside. "All the best stuff is in these three boxes." She handed him the bag containing the letter. He looked at it carefully, and even held it up to the light.

Next, Bobby flipped the page on the clipboard and checked the list again. "Can I have People's 36?"

"Here," she said, and picked up another box. "Second search of the Burnham house," she said. She took the lid off and handed the box to Bobby. He reached in and brought out another bag. This one contained stationary. The stationary didn't match the paper the letter had been written on.

He looked at them both carefully, and then rested his cheeks against his fists. Still thinking, he folded his arms on the table and leaned into them.

It wasn't the kind of thing she would have let slip by. Alex would have noticed. She would have been more thorough. He rubbed his weary eyes. No, she was grieving Joe. She wasn't at her best, then.

He sighed. Alex hadn't called him yet. He checked the time, and figured she just wasn't ready to talk after the way things had gone last night. He decided he would go out on his own.

Goren made notes of the pieces he thought he would need and headed to Kevin Mulrooney's apartment.

* * *

Goren knocked on the door. Mulrooney saw him through the peephole and reluctantly let him enter.

"Hey," Goren said.

"Mm-hmmm."

"Your office wouldn't give out your number," Goren explained. He walked past Kevin, through the entryway and into the apartment. "It's all fancy and…" Goren commented on the quarters, with a smile.

"I have a meeting," the ADA said.

"I just wanted to come by and keep you up to date on things," Bobby said, still walking farther inside. He pulled open a cabinet as he passed it. It was an entertainment center.

"Is there some urgency?" asked Mulrooney. "Have you found a redhead yet?"

"We didn't find a redhead, but we found a red shirt. Same motel that she brought Craig O'Keefe." Bobby walked past him again and opened the closet doors. Again, he found a neat row of suits and shirts, organized by color.

Mulrooney wasn't pleased. He raised his head and stared at Goren.

The big detective beamed at him. "This is crazy," he commented. "I-I'm lookin'… and I'm…" He held his hands out and measured the expanse of the clothing in the closet. He turned back to Kevin. "You know? What do you… do you hear what I'm saying? I mean, it's like two different people live here."

Kevin laughed. "Yeah, but, uh…" he chuckled. "It's just me." Dramatically, he closed his closet doors.

"I was wondering if, you know, you'd come by… and… you know, look at evidence lock-up with me."

Kevin gathered his jacket and a file as he listened to Goren. Then he said, "You know, I really think it's time to…"

"The two of us… we put our heads together," Goren said, following him to the door. "Are we leaving?"

"Mm-hmm," answered Mulrooney. "Yeah, I can stop by after work." He stood back and let Bobby exit first.

"Promise?"

"Yes. Of course." He started out. "Oh, damn, I just remembered I have to send a fax," Kevin said, turning back quickly. He shut the door in Bobby's face.

* * *

Goren was at his desk when Eames returned from a bathroom break. "Mulrooney's gonna meet me at evidence lock-up… in about two hours."

She stood very still, staring at him. She stepped forward slowly. "Well, I hope you're not saying I can't go," she said quietly.

He gaped at her for a moment. She was so determined to be tough, and why couldn't she let him take a few punches for her?! He sat back and blinked a couple of times. "No, I'm…" Bobby sighed. "Things are gonna be said, you know, things revealed."

"That won't be pleasant for me."

"Right."

Alex looked like she hadn't slept, either. "It's about getting him, right?" she asked, that sad determination in her face.

Bobby nodded. He looked down, and then back up into her eyes.

"So what's the problem?" she challenged.

_I don't want you to get hurt,_ Bobby thought. _I don't want to watch you get hurt. I don't want to make you hurt. _He knew better than to say those thoughts aloud. He stared at her, and she at him. "Okay," he finally said.

She dropped into her seat and busied herself on the computer until it was time to go.

* * *

Bobby had the most important items out on the table for Mulrooney to review. Eames stood by the chain link fencing, watching the two men interact.

"I'm supposed to see a case in all this? The lawyer asked.

"Well, the case is here, it's unformed, yeah," Bobby explained from his seat. Mulrooney was standing, sifting through the bags of evidence.

"No, I don't go to court until things are fully formed. I learned that lesson," he said.

Alex took the blow silently. She shook her head and looked at the floor.

"Well, we clearly don't want a repeat of that," Bobby said, playing the game.

"Mmm."

"It's too bad that Detective Eames didn't fudge her testimony," Bobby struck back, his voice calm as anything.

"That's not what I suggested."

"Oh, come on." Alex spoke up. "If I hadn't found that letter, you'd be on that yellow brick road to bureau chief, not taking orders from your former paralegal." It was a good counterstrike, but there was pain in her voice, too, and regret.

"You know, I'm not really sure you should be here," said Kevin.

"I think she needs to be here," Goren said quickly. He'd had his own reservations earlier, but Eames was all in, and so was he. "I think she's carried around this… guilt of that acquittal… ten years… I think Detective Eames… needs to see how you…" Bobby pushed back in the chair, papers in each hand, and turned to her, "forged Jenny Burnham's letter."

Alex tried not to react, but she was taken by Bobby's little surprise.

"And planted it… so she could find it." As Bobby continued to speak, Alex slowly moved forward, her eyes searching the evidence he'd found. She was trying to get past what she'd thought was the truth, to see it with fresh eyes, with Bobby's eyes. "This is a search warrant, this is the second request by you. 'All furniture and furnishings owned by the deceased, including the slant-top desk.' The letter was found in…" Bobby continued. Eames came to his side, and took the search warrant in her hands.

"Ridiculous," spouted Mulrooney. "The search is specific because I ran a tight case."

"But it's the paper," Bobby explained. He held the evidence bag containing the forged letter for Eames to see. "Letter paper." She was sitting by Bobby now. She examined the letter more closely, sharing it between her hand and his. Bobby stared up at the lawyer. "U-u-uh, this is only made and sold in Ireland." Bobby dropped the letter to the desk. He held up a loose piece of stationary. "This, this is Jenny Burnham's paper." He picked up the evidence bag containing her paper to prove he was right.

Eames looked up at Mulrooney. Anger, pain, and accusation were in her eyes.

Kevin looked down and sighed heavily.

Bobby held up another evidence bag, another piece of paper inside it. "This one your mother… brought back with her… on one of her annual visits to Ireland."

"Absolutely none of this has anything to do with Burnham's murder," said Mulrooney, as he squatted down into the chair. "You are looking for a woman. Without her, there's no case." He stared Goren down.

Bobby met his stare. "We have a woman," he said simply.

Kevin's face said he didn't believe it.

Bobby held up one finger. "I just want to…" He opened a file folder and brought out a post-mortem of Boz Burnham. "This shot… right between the eyes." He turned it so Mulrooney could see. "Very calculated, deliberate, a-a-a marksman."

Kevin was glaring at him, now.

"And this, total emasculation, unplanned. Crudely done… with this." He held up the evidence bag containing the broken bottle. "Now, it's two crimes. One is… meticulously thought out. The other… have you… ever heard of Carl Jung?"

"Just show me a case." The ADA leaned forward and closed the file folder over the photograph. "If I want expert psychiatric testimony, I'll get a shrink."

"Carl Jung… believed that… rage is the, uhm… female side of our nature." He smiled at Kevin, who gave him a nod. Goren nodded back. "Anima." Goren smiled again. "An aggregate of all the females in our lives. Gives us strength. Makes us stronger." Goren glanced at Eames when he spoke of strength. He did it so quickly, she didn't even notice.

Mulrooney smiled. "Uh-huh, good, yeah. I don't really care what Jung believed."

"Do you remember the girl at the bar?" Bobby asked. Kevin shrugged, so Bobby explained. "Remember, you said she was skinny and she had fake breasts? Remember that?"

Eames was surprised again. When had Bobby gone to bar with Kevin?

Bobby got to his feet, the chair screeching as he pushed it back. "You said that she was wearing Versace and that made her confident, right?" He paced around the table as he spoke. Drawing closer to Mulrooney, Bobby moved in and sat down in front of him, on the edge of the table. He directed his next comment to Eames. "I think that he knows… how that feels." Glances bounced around the room. "I think you know how that feels," Goren told Mulrooney quietly.

The ADA looked up and flashed a smile. "You're desperate," he chuckled.

Bobby's face grew even more serious. "I think… that you want Eames to feel the same failure that's been haunting you for years. And that's why you left clues." Bobby turned back to Alex and explained quickly, "Red blouse, swizzle stick from the bar." He turned his head back to Kevin. "That's why you dumped Boz's body at City Island, to bring it back to Detective Eames."

"You wanted me to know it was you, and to think there wasn't a damn thing that I could do to prove it."

"Until," Bobby interrupted, "our search team calls… and tells us that they found… a red wig." Bobby let that sink in. He leaned closer to Mulrooney's ear. "I wonder what else they're gonna find?"

Kevin sighed. "Without probable cause, that search is invalid."

Bobby stood up and started laying out more paperwork in front of the ADA. "Probable cause." The papers were receipts. "you bought these clothes… for her." Bobby paused while the man studied them. "Size 12, or what was it, maybe 14?" He reached for one of the receipts, and Kevin swiped them all angrily. He stood and stormed over to the wall, the one that was topped with the chain link fencing.

"She's a big girl, confident girl, struts her stuff," Bobby taunted.

"Hah," said Kevin.

"Very much like you're doing right now."

"Okay, right. I'm out of here," Kevin said, and started for the doorway. Eames stepped over to block it.

"Are you afraid?" Bobby continued. "Is she afraid? What would you guys be afraid of? What would the two of you be afraid of?"

Kevin stopped when Eames stood in his way. He stood before her, hands on his hips, frowning and listening to Goren. Bobby moved to the man's side. "What's the matter, the undergarments… pressing against your skin? Don't make you feel protected? I think you screwed up, Kev. A little too much rouge, you know? Scent."

"There's nothing worse than having your makeup not right," Eames added. "I'll bet you can't wait to look in a mirror." Her voice was firm, but shaking.

Her words struck him hard, this time. Kevin's expression dropped and he backed toward the chain link again. "All right… all right…" He sniffed. "All right. You'll find things." He stared at Goren, then directed his nest words to Eames. "This bitch can gloat… but I've seen her broken, a crushed flower… sobbing… for poor… dead… Joe." Eames' anger was building, the only outward signs the look on her face and the heaving of her chest. "And wanting me," Kevin added. He raised his hands to cover his mouth and nose and seemed to be breathing through them.

"But not as strong as you," Bobby added.

Kevin held his hands there longer, and then one fell away while the other seemed to caress his own cheek. He inhaled deeply. "Not strong like Cappy," he whispered, and he inhaled the trace of scent from his own wrist. Mulrooney grabbed the chain link and held his body differently. He closed his eyes, sniffed his wrist once more, and then opened them to glare at Goren. "But she's someone you'll never find," he said. After a moment, Kevin let his gaze fall on Eames. "I'm ready to see a lawyer," he announced.

Bobby withdrew his cuffs from the holder in the small of his back. He walked closer to Mulrooney, took him firmly by the arm, and moved him closer to the table. "Hold still, Sweetie," Goren snarked. He put the guy's hands behind his back, and got as far as rattling the cuffs before another thought struck him. Bobby looked at Alex.

Her face was a mixture of hurt and anger. Bobby stepped away from Mulroony and bumped him hard with his arm as he walked past. He carried the empty cuffs over to his partner and held them out for her. She needed to do this. She needed her power back.

Eames took the cuffs. Bobby positioned himself at the door to watch. She walked forward. "I'm placing you under arrest for the murder of Boz Burnham," she said, affixing one cuff to his left hand. She snatched his right hand down and back and hooked the cuff around it, too. "You have the right to an attorney. If you lack funds, an attorney will be provided for you."

Goren watched as she completed the process. Then he called in for some uniformed officers to take Mulrooney to holding.

She disappeared for a while. Bobby took care of the booking paperwork. Once everything was in order, he called her cell.

"Eames," she said, sounding sad.

"Where are you?" he asked.

"I, uh… I'm at home, Bobby. I needed… I had to…"

"Okay, okay. It's all right, you know?"

"I'm sorry," she said.

"No need for that."

"Still…"

"All right." He sighed and scratched his head. "Look, I'm coming by, okay?"

"I—"

"I wasn't really asking… permission," he said. "I'll see you." Bobby hung up the phone. He put away his things and left 1PP.

* * *

He closed the door quickly, turned the lock, and then turned to her. Bobby took her in his arms and held her.

When she finally looked up at him, he could see she'd been crying. Bobby kissed her. He kissed her, and swiped her hair back with his hands.

"Wait, don't," she protested, and pulled away.

"I want to," he countered, and his lips brushed across her cheek as she turned her head.

"You can't mean that," she said, walking away from him.

"Alex…"

"I screwed up, Bobby." She threw a glance over her shoulder at him, then spun and sat down in her easy chair.

He frowned, walked the rest of the way in, and sat on her sofa.

"I just don't understand how I could have been so… so stupid."

He waited, but she gave him nothing, so he said, "… about…?"

"A search warrant that says, 'look here, look here!' How could I have been so naïve? I was Major Case, for God's sake!"

"Alex, you… you were…"

"And the paper! My God, the paper! I should have caught it."

"Alex, you were grieving. You told me when you explained about Mulrooney."

"And that… him… too."

"It's a time in a person's life when…"

"It's not an excuse."

"It's honest. You were grieving Joe. And it took some time to, you know, to come back."

"I feel… like… a fool."

Bobby shook his head. "No. You're not a fool, Alex."

"Well, how do you explain it this time, then?"

He threw her a quizzical look.

"He was in my apartment, Bobby. He stole my clothing. I just kept… writing it off to… to…"

"Same reason. You're grieving Joe. You're in this… relationship… with me, and you don't know up from down with me half the time."

"No, don't blame yourself, Bobby. This is… this is all… on me."

"Still… I know I'm not easy to love."

She sighed, and it seemed like the tears were working their way to the surface again.

"Alex, I love you."

She swallowed hard, and shook her head slowly.

"And I know you probably don't want to hear that right now. But I need to say it. I don't just love you on the good days. I love you when you're… mad at me. I love you when you're forgetful. I love you when you're grouchy. I love you when you're right, and when you're wrong, and when you're a pillar of strength or a puddle of tears." He'd dropped to his knees while he was talking, and he was at the arm of the chair, holding her hand between both of his.

She stared at his hands, and a lone tear fell and rolled down the back of his thumb. Bobby reached for her and hugged her again. This time, she let him hold her.


	45. All In

Chapter 45

He fell asleep sitting up, his back against the headboard of her bed. She was lying in his arms, with her cheek nestled against his chest. It was a position they'd become very comfortable with in the days of her recovery after the incident with Jo Gage.

The headboard was numbing the back of his skull. Bobby awoke and tried to adjust his position. Alex had slipped down and was lying across his lap now. He hated to wake her, but he had to lie down. "Alex," he whispered, running a hand over her head.

She stretched a little and sighed.

"Alex, honey, can you move?"

"Oh," she sighed, and got off of him. Bobby stretched himself a little, trying to work the kinks out. Then he slipped down to lie flat on the mattress beside her. He reached out his hand to find hers, and they fell asleep again.

When Alex woke in the morning, she felt him beside her, and all of the events of the day before played out in her head. Her emotions were still there, the shame and embarrassment… the anger. But she felt a little stronger today.

She and Bobby had talked well into the night. He'd tried his best to convey his respect for her, but she still felt keenly how she'd failed as a detective. He asked her about the time after Joe died. He'd asked about the things she shared with Kevin.

And it was hard, but she told him what she could remember. And it was funny, but what she remembered most was how lonely she'd been. She hadn't even thought Kevin was particularly attractive, at first, but when he gave her the time, and listened to her, night after night, she started to have feelings for him.

Of course, losing the Burnham case destroyed it all. Now, Alex was grateful for that. She knew herself, and she knew if things had continued on with Kevin, she would have slept with him. And probably clung to him for as long as he would have let her. And she would have ended up hurt in the end, anyway. And even worse, it would have changed her.

She liked, mostly, who she was. So as she lay on her side, fingering the little cross Bobby'd given her, she thanked God for the way things had played out, in spite of the pain.

He'd told her to call the landlord, to get her locks changed. Eames had half-convinced herself it was all in her head, that Mulrooney hadn't broken in. But Bobby believed he had. He insisted she take precautions.

She'd asked him about jealousy, since she'd seen it when they'd run across Stash, and now with his insistence in knowing if she'd slept with Kevin.

He told her he'd given that a lot of thought, and it didn't feel that way to him. Bobby said he was just worried about her, and he needed to know how close she and Mulrooney had been so he could care for her.

And Bobby had admitted that he didn't like the way she'd pushed him away. He admitted that it hurt.

She thought of what she'd said to him, when he asked if she'd been feeling guilty all these years. _You don't know how I feel._ Alex scoffed at herself. Bobby could get inside the heads of complete strangers. How much more could he read into Alex Eames?

She rolled his way, and was stricken by how handsome he was. She studied the contrast of his hard, whiskered jaw and his soft, peaceful lips.

Alex moved closer to him, until her lips nearly touched the bare skin of his chest. In his sleep, he stretched out a hand and touched her.

She thought about it. All this time, she'd been working on Bobby to get him to open up to her, to tell her what was going on inside… his thoughts, his feelings. And he'd come a long way to accommodate her. It was ironic that when she was hurting and vulnerable she couldn't do the same.

* * *

"They pull up, park, leave a shooting victim. Happens more times than you think," explained the security officer for the hospital. Eames stood ready to take notes on her little pad, and Goren stood, hands in pockets, watching the video replay carefully.

"Crown Vic, dark blue, maybe black," Eames said, scratching notes. "Driver is male, approximately six feet…"

"Look, see a license plate here," Bobby said with a point to the screen.

The security man reached for the mouse and clicked. "I can enhance that."

"There you go. D-Q-F, 8-0-9-3," Bobby read.

Alex wrote the plate number as he said it. "I'm on it," she said. She turned away and pulled out her cell phone.

"Soon as our people got there, he took off," the officer told Goren.

"And rule out robbery," said the officer from the local precinct, Schwartz. "Still had on an expensive Rolex watch… and a wallet full of cash."

"What do you know about him?" Bobby asked as he and Eames followed Officer Schwartz out of the office.

"His name is Kip McGonagle. Forty-two, high school teacher. He died within an hour of arriving. Never regained consciousness."

"Any idea where the shooting occurred?"

"We're checking 911 calls. No gun shots reported in this area."

"All right, thanks," said Bobby, replacing his hands on his hips.

Alex's phone rang and she read the text. "The owner of the Crown Vic has a default warrant for marijuana possession."

* * *

They brought him in. Eames sat with him in interrogation and Goren watched, standing by the mirror.

"No, I didn't even know Kip McGonagle."

"He just walked up with a fatal gunshot wound and asked for a ride," Eames said.

"Saw him staggering," the man said. "I knew he was hurt bad, but I don't know what happened."

"Well, he…" Goren stepped closer, "bled all over the seats… right, and the whole car was a bloody mess… Yet you… took him to the hospital."

"You sayin' I shoulda left him?"

"It's just hard to believe," answered Eames.

"I was driving home from work. Dude came outta nowhere! I couldn't just leave him in the street."

Bobby took a breath. "So, a good Samaritan picks up a fatally wounded guy, and dumps him at the ER, and then takes off."

"It doesn't look good, Deshawn," added Eames.

"Look," DeShawn took off his hat. "I got a good job, man. Cleaning offices, you know? They don't know about that old warrant. If I woulda stopped, they woulda found out at work. Could mess me up! I'm being straight! Check my time card."

Bobby nodded, started to turn for the door, then turned back. "So where did this happen?"

"Chinatown. Market Street." Bobby turned and walked out the door. "Look, you gotta believe me!" DeShawn told Eames.

She nodded. "We're just gonna check it out, like you said." She got up and walked out, too. Bobby was waiting for her in observation. "Well?"

"I think he's sincere. We put a call in about his time card and we head to Chinatown," Bobby said.

"Yeah, that's what I thought, too." Alex turned and gave instructions to the guard at the door, and she and Bobby were soon on the road.


	46. Chapter 46

Chapter 46

"Blood," called out Eames. "Matches the location DeShawn gave us."

Bobby lifted his phone and called CSU. Then he walked slowly in the area, looking for more evidence. "More blood, here. Not as much as there." He gestured with his hands as he spoke.

A unit arrived, and Alex spoke with the uniformed officer, who taped off the area. Within ten minutes, a small team was on site, and they started marking the spots of blood with bright yellow cards.

The Detectives explored the area, comparing what they saw to what they knew from Deshawn's testimony and the little bit they knew about the victim. "So," Bobby said, standing over card "A," "McGonagle's hit, and he goes down."

"Blood trail goes past the gutter."

"Steps out into the street." Bobby looked around. "I don't…understand why. Why does he go this way? There's nothing here, you know, why not cut towards Chinatown, you know? There's more traffic, pedestrians."

She pointed to the building across the street. "Maybe he thought help was over there? Let's get a full canvas of those buildings." They spent a few minutes talking to the local officers that had pulled in, and got a little more info about the neighborhood. Then the two split and Bobby canvassed one side of the street while Alex took the other.

After an hour, they met in the street again. Alex held a copy of a lease in her hand. "Kip McGonagle described himself on the lease form as a single man. Guess we know what this place was for," she said, and they stared at the numbers 124 on the painted red wrought iron doorway.

She followed Bobby inside, accompanied by some men from CSU. Goren was rooting through the items on the bookshelf. "Porn and sports," he said.

"The elements of Kip's secret life," she commented, examining the items on the end table across the room. She picked up a pile of paper. "Betting slips," Eames said. "He was keeping track of a lot of action. I'd say more than just his own."

Bobby found a small paper that interested him. He picked it up. "Looks like flash paper," Goren noted, and picked up a lighter. He lit the paper and released it, and it was consumed in the air immediately. They both smiled at his little magic trick. "Yep. So in case there's a raid, they can get rid of it quick. You know, flash paper, all that action…? That might explain the change in his betting patterns, you know? Maybe he moved upscale to a mini book operation."

"Became someone's competition." They finished up what they could sort out at McGonagle's lair, and then headed out to meet with his widow at their home. Perhaps they could find more clues there.

Bobby's coat was folded on the back seat of the SUV. Alex was still wearing hers, though she had shed her scarf. "My sister said there was frost on the windows at her place yesterday."

"Spring can't seem to get 'sprung,'" Bobby said with a grin.

"I know that wind went right through me this morning." She stopped at a light and looked over at him. "You're still being stubborn about it, aren't you?"

"I wore it when it was cold, earlier. I'm not cold now," he said with a shrug.

She yawned behind her hand. "I need a coffee. There's that place on the corner up there, you wanna…?"

"Sure," he said. She double-parked at the corner and Bobby ran in to get two drinks. She earned a few impatient honks and had to show her shield to one unit that pulled up beside her. Then he was in the car again.

Bobby handed her a tall, steaming cup. "Salted Caramel something or other," he said.

"Mmmm." She nodded in approval and gave it a sniff before tasting it. Alex liked to try new flavors, so long as they were sweet. Bobby often surprised her when he got her a coffee. "What's yours?" she asked.

"Hmm? Uh, a dark roast double shot."

"Mine sounds better," she grinned. "Thanks."

They finished the drinks just before they arrived. The woman showed them inside. "I still can't believe it," she confided to Alex while Bobby explored the room.

"Your husband taught high school science?" asked Eames.

"That's right… eleven years."

"I don't mean to be… blunt," Goren said, "but… it looks like teachers are finally getting paid what they're worth." The house was filled with all kinds of the latest technologies, nice furniture, expensive décor. "You're house is so beautiful," he continued, "I mean there's lots of—"

"He did a lot of moonlighting," she explained, taking offense. "He tutored kids, he reffed college basketball… He was reffing yesterday."

"Oh yeah? Uh… where?" asked Goren.

"City College, home game."

"And… after that?" asked Eames.

"I don't know. I was away."

Bobby spoke next. "It wasn't strange that he didn't come home after the game?"

"What are you suggesting?"

Bobby was silent, so Alex spoke. "What did he usually do after reffing?"

"There… w-was a sports bar where he'd unwind, uh… players, or play b-I don't know." She shook her head. "Sports wasn't something we shared."

"Well, maybe we can find it in the receipts," said Goren. "We're gonna need to see his financial records, phone bills, stuff like that."

She gaped a minute. "Keeping records wasn't his strong suit."

They discussed that as they walked back out to the SUV. Bobby held a box full of paperwork the woman had given them.

"If he wasn't good at keeping records, I guess bookmaking wasn't the best career choice for him," Alex snarked.

Goren nodded and gave her a smile. She opened the back hatch for him, and Bobby tucked the box inside. Alex was already buckling into the driver's seat when he shut the hatch and came around to get in his seat.

* * *

A little more legwork procured for them some recordings of the last few games Kip McGonagle had reffed. They watched them together in the AV room. When Ross popped in, Bobby explained, "This is one of Kip McGonagle's last games as a ref. We wanted to see if he made any obvious enemies."

"One of our councilmen called him a model citizen who gave his time to outreach programs. Not exactly a model ref. You're seeing some questionable calls here."

"Isn't that why everyone hates refs?" snarked Eames.

On the television, Kip blew the whistle. "There's another one," said Goren. "He's calling repeated fouls on the same players. It's seven for the home team, none for the visitors."

"It's more than just bad reffing," said Ross. "Kip McGonagle had some kind of agenda." The Captain left, and the two detectives finished watching the game.

"You're enjoying this," said Alex.

"I like basketball," Goren said. "Nice to get… paid… to watch it. Even if the game is fixed." He gave her a grin.

"You hungry?" Bobby nodded. "I'll get us something. Be back in a few."

She brought back dinner and they did some digging into the booking business in College basketball, as well as in Kip's circle of friends. Alex left for a while, pursuing her own research. When she came back, she tossed down her folder and leaned over her desk, peering at what Goren was into on his.

"What?" he said, and she could tell he was frustrated.

"You've taken up accounting?"

"The final scores from Kip's games the past two seasons." He held up a paper. "And this is the point spread of Kip's games. I compared it to the Vegas spread for the same games."

Alex read it over. "The games he reffed usually beat the Vegas spread by a couple of points."

"Eighty-five percent of the time. You know the chances of that?"

"Kip was shaving points. That could've paid for his lifestyle."

"Yeah, and then he stops beating the spread midseason." Bobby looked down at his paperwork again. "Probably his local bookie got wise and, you know, wouldn't take his bets."

Alex sank down into her desk chair. "But we saw him make bad calls the day of his death."

"Yeah, he found another way of betting."

She thought for a moment. "Well I can't imagine his bookie would have liked that."


	47. Chapter 47

Chapter 47

Ross retrieved a soda from the coke machine. "So this pad… any witnesses see who comes and goes?" he asked the detectives.

"Well, he chose well," Bobby said. "Four floors, six apartments, nobody sees anything."

"What about his finances?" They were all walking back from the break room together.

"Shoulda… stuck with the games that he fixed, because what he won on those, he bet on other sports."

"His accounts are maxed out," said Alex. "He made weekly ATM withdrawals from a cash machine down the street from a sports bar he frequented."

"Phone records?"

"Numerous calls to the bar. They stopped a few months back. The bar is owned by Lou Cardinal." Alex said it, and Bobby folded his arms and turned away, looking across the squad room.

"Not just any old bookie. Owing Lou would certainly have its risks." With a nod, Ross headed back to his office.

Alex looked up at Bobby. He glanced down at her. "I could use a beer," he joked. The two got their things and headed out.

* * *

He was on the phone when they came in. A woman was standing near him.

"I gotta go," said Lou. "Sweets," he said to the woman beside him, who held a pool cue in her hand, "bring my wife over to see that car." He traded her the keys for the pool stick.

"Sure." Alex stepped back to allow the woman to pass as she left. Something about the look on Eames' face made Bobby smile.

"So… detectives."

"We have some questions about one of your regulars," Alex called out. "Kip McGonagle."

Cardinal was hunched over the table, about to take a shot. He straightened up. "Terrible what happened to him. We're all sick about it." Bobby looked back and forth from Eames to Cardinal. He put his hands on his hips and watched Lou bend over to line up his shot. He bent down into the man's space. "Those real Hawkins rifles?" he asked, pointing at the opposite wall.

"Authentic," Cardinal said, looking up at the rifles, as well. He stood up once more. "Any one of them could've belonged to Daniel Boone."

Bobby walked over to get a closer look at the rifles, and Alex picked up the questioning. "When was the last time you saw Mr. McGonagle?"

"Kip?" He pulled a face, thinking. "He hasn't been around here in a while. But my bartender would know for sure. Name is Lon Feuer. I'll get you the number."

Eames smiled. "You really seem to have all the answers. So what kind of action were you taking for Kip?"

"What kind of question is that?" The man was starting to line up the shot again, but he gave up on it.

"Kip gambled. This is a sports bar, and you've had numerous indictments for bookmaking."

"And how many convictions?"

"How many assault charges?"

"All dismissed." He gave up on the shot again and stood tall. "Do I have to call my lawyer and get billed, or can we keep this civil?" Goren was studying the pictures and knick-knacks along the wall. He didn't seem to be paying any attention to the conversation. Cardinal continued to speak. "People come in here, they may bet among themselves, but I make it my business not to know about that."

Goren saw a picture of a poker player with a huge pile of cash on the table in front of him. He carefully took it off the wall. "That is Josh Snow," he said. He brought it back over to the others and threw Eames a smile. "Josh Snow, look at this! I mean, he comes in here?" he asked Cardinal.

"Yeah." He stood tall again, and looked at Goren. "You… follow tournament poker?"

"I do, I do," Goren smiled. "I like the suspense, you know? The… tells, you know, the bluffing, and…" he smiled and nodded.

"That's the best part of any game," said Lou. He bent down to line up a shot. He finally plunged the stick against the cue ball with a snap.

With a meaningful look, the two detectives headed back out to the sunny street. "He's smooth," said Alex.

Bobby was thinking. He walked a few steps before he said anything. "Juries… they usually see bookmaking as a victimless crime."

"It wasn't victimless for Josh Snow's father," Alex said. "Murdered over a gambling debt. Now Josh is in the same world."

"Yeah, I've seen his name… a few times. He placed high in, uh, top poker tournaments… Then he fell off the map."

"You can bet he's still close to some game. He'd never lose the itch."

Bobby nodded, and they paused at the crosswalk, waiting for the signal to cross the street. "Well, maybe, uh… you put in a call to your old pals in Vice. I, uh… I think a little game of poker is, you know, fun once in a while."

Alex grinned up at him. Then she got her phone out.

* * *

"Omaha, high low," said the dealer, as he tossed the cards to each man at the table.

One man checked his hand and immediately tossed them back down. "I'm out."

Bobby checked his hand and quietly said, "I wanna see the flop."

"Raise you," said another man.

"Garbage," said the next.

The last man, a redhead, studied his cards.

"Game's boring you?" asked the first guy that folded.

"A little," the redhead replied.

"Josh Snow," said Goren, very quietly.

"What?" asked the redhead.

"No, I was just saying there's no… Josh Snow here. Yeah."

"What are you, a groupie?"

Bobby had to keep from smiling. "What, you know who he is?" he asked.

The guy shrugged. "Josh Snow, who the hell is Josh Snow?" He smiled at Goren, then looked around the table. "Who's up? Where we at?"

In between hands, the redhead headed for the john. Bobby followed him. He was spraying deodorant on his pits when Goren walked in.

"That's… clever," Bobby said to him, sticking his hands in his pockets.

"What?"

"Well, let me guess. Uh… some over the counter speed, maybe a cocktail of cocaine and caffeine, you know, keep you drenched in sweat… so that you're hard to read." He paused and looked down at the items on the sink. "Except this deodorant here, it's not gonna cover up this…" Bobby wafted his hand in front of the guy's face, "chemical smell, you know."

"And I should care what you think?" The guy turned around and retrieved his shirt from over the top of the stall door. Bobby moved closer to the sinks. He tapped his badge against the porcelain and the man turned around in shock and fear. "Aw, Geez…" he groaned.

Bobby turned to the items on the sink again. He grabbed a cigarette box and gave it a shake. "Oh, I wonder what's in here?" he said. "So… Josh Snow. Played him… and you beat him? I mean… for some reason you felt the need to brag when his name came up. I was wondering…"

The guy laughed a little. "Hey, I didn't read you for much of a player. Yeah. I beat Josh. But you might say I took advantage. That thing with his wife made him run bad."

"Penelope?"

"I don't know her name. But she died of cancer and it killed his game. He's having to do collections for Lou Cardinal."

Goren looked down, fitting the pieces together in his mind.

"Are you actually taking me in?"

Goren turned and dropped the drugs out of the cigarette box into the sink. "Josh is a bit small for collections." He explored the items he'd spilled out.

"You know Frankie Martin?"

"I don't know, remind me, while I'm… forgetting about arresting you."

"He's a degenerate who bets college games. Lost a lot of money to Lou a few months back. Said Josh looked real big with a .38 in his hand."

Goren listened, nodded, then turned the water on full blast, washing the drugs down the drain. He turned and left.

He drove all the way home and took a shower before he made the call.

"Eames," she said.

"I'm out," he said.

"Did you win?" She teased.

"Guy said Josh was doing collections for Cardinal."

"Little Josh?"

"Yeah. I got a name. I guess a bullet, you know, levels the playing field."

"We'll follow it up in the morning. Get some sleep, Bobby."

"I'm planning on it."

"Good night."

"Night."


	48. Chapter 48

Chapter 48

"You're up early," Alex said into the phone. She'd thought he would sleep in after the poker game.

"Yeah, uh… I've got this name, supposedly Josh collected a debt from this guy."

"I'll pick you up."

* * *

He was waiting by his building when she pulled up. It was just cold enough outside to see his breath. She stopped the car and Bobby got in.

"It's cold this morning," she said, pleased that he was wearing his coat.

"Yeah." He told her the name and address, and she pulled back out into the street.

"You never said if you won anything," she teased him again.

"I'll spring for lunch," he grinned back.

Alex didn't tell him how she'd worried. She knew Bobby could handle himself, and since it was only an information-seeking exercise, they hadn't taken precautions for a lot of back-up. She'd worried about him, though.

"Uh… how was your evening?"

"Okay… I finished reading that book. My sister thinks I should learn to crochet."

Bobby looked over at her in surprise. Alex's eyes flitted his way, and a grin spread over her face. Soon they were both laughing.

They grew more serious as they neared Frankie Martin's neighborhood. "Josh collected from him about two weeks ago. Apparently he held him at gunpoint to do it."

"What's he into?"

"College ball," Goren said.

They rang his bell, and Martin came out of his house to speak to them on the sidewalk.

"Do you recognize this man?" Eames asked, handing over a photograph.

"Josh Snow, yeah," Frankie said. "So what's this about?"

"He collected some money from you?" Eames asked.

"Yeah, he came and I paid, what's the crime?"

"It was that easy?" Goren asked. "You're like twice the guy's size."

"He was persuasive. I was afraid that Lou had found out that I had shifted."

"You mean you were betting with someone else," Bobby said.

"I gave Kip McGonagle some action. And I thought if this was what this is really about, I could be dead."

"So Josh threatened you with a gun?" asked Eames.

"He shot at me and missed… or I'd be playing drag acts. An Escalade was over there, and he jumped in. That's all I'm saying."

"Hang on a second," said Bobby. "Escalade? Did you see the driver?"

"No."

They thanked him for his time and spoke quietly as they returned to the SUV. "Josh has an accomplice," Eames said.

"Probably a woman. I mean, why would Josh do the collections unless he was with a guy smaller than him, which is… unlikely."

"And he's out of his element. Probably more comfortable knowing he can hop in and she'll step on it and get him out of there."

"No description, though."

"His wife?"

"She died." Bobby took three more steps and then paused. "Judge Hanley might… you know, we're looking for a weapon."

"I'll write up a search warrant. If we're lucky, we can get in today."

"I'll do some research on Josh. See what he's been up to the last few years."

* * *

Judge Hanley signed the warrant just before his lunch break, and Goren and Eames were in Josh Snow's apartment with a full team by 11 a.m.

Josh walked straight up to Goren. "Didn't get the card about our reunion."

Goren stood up and looked the younger man over. "Hi, Josh," he said quietly. Snow nodded, a half-smile on his lips. "You remember Detective Eames," Bobby said, turning toward Alex as she approached.

"Yeah… So we parted on good terms, we got a…problem now?"

"This warrant…we're looking for the .38 you used to kill Kip McGonagle." Goren turned sideways as she spoke, his own weapon in its holster between him and Snow. He appeared disinterested, but he was keeping a very close eye on his partner.

"It would help if I knew who that was," Josh said, holding the warrant she'd given him and skimming it quickly.

Bobby was studying a newspaper, the sports page scribbled over with notes. The same number was written over and over again in the margins, and even over some of the scores. "Well, he owed Lou Cardinal money, the… man that you're making collections for." Goren relaxed his hand and looked over at the young gambler.

"Look… I play tournament poker. Lou backed me in a couple games. End of story."

"You were ID'd by someone you shot at," Alex announced.

"Really?" His expression was skeptical. "I'm thinking if you guys had someone willing to pick me out of a lineup, I'd be in handcuffs right now." Josh took a drink of the beer he'd just opened. Goren looked away. "That's the tell so I can relax," Snow said. He cleared his throat.

"Handicapping?" Bobby asked, holding out the paper as Josh walked by.

"You want a tip?"

"No, it's just that back when we investigated your father's death…" Goren paced a small circle. "What was it you said? No games of chance?"

"The numbers are a recreation," Snow said. "I always got A's in math."

One of the team handed Eames a box. She carried it over to Bobby. "Blanks for a .38. We're getting warm." She looked over at Josh. "What would you use these for?"

"Fourth of July," he answered. Eames smiled. She knew he was lying. Goren sat on the arm of the couch, next to where Josh was now sitting. "You guys make a weapons charge on blanks?" He paused, and the Detectives said nothing. "I didn't think so."

Another pause, and Bobby said, "I'm sorry about your wife."

Josh gave Goren a respectful nod. He knew the detective was sincere, even if he was being investigated. "What are you hoping to find here, Goren?" He held up a card. "Ten of hearts?" With a flick of his wrist, it seemed to magically change. "Jack of spades?" Goren looked down and away. "I didn't kill that guy," said Snow.

"Oh, don't… play me… Josh." He shook his head in quiet disapproval.

Josh shuffled the rest of the deck in one hand.

The search turned up nothing more, and the team left.

* * *

Back at 1PP, the ADA met with the detectives in Ross's office. "We've impaneled the Grand Jury," she said.

"Without a suspect?" Eames tried to clarify.

"Josh Snow," the woman said.

Bobby looked uncomfortably back to Eames and then all around. "No m-murder weapon? No hard evidence?"

"Frankie Martin will testify he was shot at." She looked from one detective to the other. "You found witnesses that Josh collected for Lou Cardinal."

Eames folded her arms. "Who will hide behind ten defense lawyers the minute you indict."

"Isn't Lou the prize in all this?" asked Ross from the corner by his desk.

"We're thinking indict Josh, he delivers Lou," the ADA replied. She collected her coat and her briefcase from the extra chair in the Captain's office.

Just as she walked between the two detectives, Bobby asked, "So… uh, Josh has spoken to you?"

"Any conversations like that would be off the record." She looked from Eames to Goren. "I have a meeting."

Ross broke the silence. "So, they want Lou, sounds like they're gonna get him."

Bobby didn't like it. He turned to his partner. "If Kip owed Lou Cardinal money, why would Lou want him killed?"

"Unless it wasn't about the debt," Alex offered as she turned to leave. Bobby followed her back to the bullpen. "Did you get much on Josh?" she asked Bobby when they got to their desks.

"N-no, the warrant came through before I—"

"I'm gonna look into his wife's death. Maybe that will give us some insight into all of this."

* * *

"Medical history for Josh's wife. She died of multiple brain tumors," Eames said, showing her partner the report.

"How long was she sick?"

"Less than a year between diagnosis and death. With the sudden loss of a spouse… you're in a daze… numb." She'd started walking, and she turned her head to find that Bobby was right there with her. "You question your judgment…" Alex wiped a hair away from her face. "You're… angry about things you think you should've done, that might've changed things."

Bobby shook his head slowly. "In poker, nothing will kill your game like anger." They walked a little farther.

"You think Josh is the one."

"I think Josh likes to play people." Bobby stopped walking and rubbed the back of his neck. "He has a son, you know. Kid plays soccer. I'll go… talk to Josh… you know, he… he respects me. From his father's case, you know."

Alex nodded.

* * *

Josh was sitting by the fence, watching his boy play. "Come on, Tommy, let's see some hustle!"

Goren approached him quietly and stood about six feet away.

Snow saw him and gave him a look before turning his eyes back to the game.

Goren followed his gaze and turned to watch the kids play, too. "He's nine now?" Bobby asked.

"Ten."

Goren turned to look at Josh. "How's he doing?" he asked.

Josh paused before answering. "He's okay… been through it."

Bobby nodded. "Rough for you too, right?"

Josh grunted in reply. "This is where you tell me it'll feel better if I talk about it and I confess to something I didn't do, right?"

Bobby checked his shoes and then looked up again. "You're talking to the DA."

"That hurt your feelings? Don't take it wrong, I told my lawyer you'd be hard to play."

"Well, if it's the truth, what's the play?"

Josh chuckled as Bobby moved closer. "You're good," he said. "I almost miss seeing you. But something's always in play. The game is endless."

"Look, since you're not our main target, I was wondering if you could fill in some blanks for me?" Bobby paused, and Josh appeared willing. "Frank Martin said an Escalade waited while you… collected from him. Who was waiting in the Escalade?" Bobby kept his eyes averted most of the time, only looking up at the end of his sentences.

"You kidding me?"

"Well, I mean, something more basic, you know? Lou's motive."

"You're faking sincere," Josh told him, pointing his finger at the detective. "Tilting your head to the left…" Bobby did just that, as if on cue, "breaking off eye contact to put me at ease." Josh stared at Goren with a smile. "Same old tells."

Goren turned back to the game. Josh had seen right through him, but he wasn't going to give up yet. He sat down on the bench next to Snow. "You got some tells, too, Josh." Both men sat watching the boy play soccer. "The way you look at him…"

"Yeah, well, you're right. Tells of the heart can't be hidden." The comment earned a glance from Goren. "The places you want me to go? I'm smarter than that."

Bobby looked back to the game, in time to see Josh's son make a goal. He slowly stood.

"Score!" Josh set his coffee down and quickly got to his feet. "All right! Nice one, Tommy!" Clapping his hands, he went to congratulate his son.

Bobby stood watching them for a while, the father interacting with his son. He considered what Josh had said about tells of the heart. He believed that was the truth, so far as Josh could tell it. But Josh's career was to play cards, and people. He was a professional liar. And Bobby was more certain than ever that Josh was behind the murder, not Lou Cardinal.


	49. Chapter 49

A/N Thanks for all the notes and comments. Don't worry, everyone, I'm fine. Just been very busy with lots of projects.

* * *

Chapter 49

"My office has signed off on charges against Josh Snow," said the ADA as she followed the Captain around the perimeter of the squad room.

"So, he'll be arrested." Ross barely even looked her way. He kept walking, four steps ahead of her.

"Yeah, let me guess: he'll be indicted for… 3rd degree manslaughter," Bobby said, stopping to lean against Eames' desk as he stared the ADA down. "Maybe… reckless endangerment, but not murder."

Alex was angry, too. She stood by her partner, unable to keep her emotions from showing on her face. "And are you recommending a suspended sentence?" she asked.

"The important thing…" The woman stood before them like some kind of self-righteous figurine. "he'll be indicted."

"Sure," said Alex. "and it prevents Lou Cardinal from guessing Josh gave you the murder case against him."

"Then Josh will be safe until Lou is gone," Bobby said quietly.

"That was a consideration," admitted the attorney.

"I think…" Bobby stared at the wheels on a desk chair a few feet away, "that you're being played." He looked back at the woman.

She tilted her head in disbelief. "By who? Not Josh Snow. My office has probable cause to search the bar and home of Lou Cardinal." She withdrew the paperwork from her briefcase and handed it to the Captain. "I'd like Major Case to execute it." Bobby got back to his feet and the Captain wordlessly handed over the search warrant. Bobby took it and spun around. He dropped it on his partner's desk and stared at her as Ross walked back to his office.

"What a waste." Alex frowned. "If I'd wanted to stay in Vice… I would have. At least we know he's behind the gambling and the collections."

"Just not the murder."

She sighed and frowned again. Alex gave Bobby a knowing nod. "Let's go," she said. They gathered their things, then the search warrant, and headed for Lou Cardinal's bar.

* * *

"And I thought only accountants used Excel," Alex told Bobby, walking quickly across the bar to join him.

"Any bookmaker can pass the CBT, no schooling at all," Goren said. He held the antique rifle horizontally before him, studying it carefully.

"They're legal," she said. "He's licensed to own them."

"I fired a Kentucky squirrel rifle once."

Eames had to look up at that.

"It's quite an art," Bobby said with a grin, and she smiled too. "I did!" He pointed the barrel at a low spot on the floor ahead of him and pulled back the hammer. "You know… loading it… you gotta pack the powder, the ball, you know."

She nodded. "Neither of them is a .38." The truth was, she and Bobby were both getting tired. Alex had to keep them on track, or they'd never be done tonight.

"True." Bobby turned toward the pictures on the wall. "Oh," he said, and stepped closer to them. "When we were here last time, remember her?" he asked Eames, bringing the photograph over to hand it to her.

"I remember, Lou called her 'Sweets.'" Alex looked carefully at it. "Here, she's standing away from Lou with her arm around another guy so as not to arouse his wife's suspicions?"

"Late model Escalade," Bobby noted. "We can enhance that and get the plate."

"So maybe we found the driver Josh wouldn't give up."

"Could have a love triangle… Lou, Josh, and this woman."

"She being the wild card."

"She ended up in Josh's hand." Bobby knew Josh was behind it. The poker player was so damn good at the game, though, that it was proving to be a pain in the ass to prove it.

"But if she's an accessory to murder, how can she do Josh any good?"

"Depends on how he plays her, right?"

Alex sighed. "Right." She walked back to the other side of the bar to wrap things up with the uniforms who were helping execute the search. Bobby did the same with the people on his side of the room. It took another 45 minutes, but they finally made it outside. Bobby stopped on the sidewalk and stretched his back, looking up at the stars.

"You okay?" she asked him.

"Yeah, just, you know, just tight."

Alex nodded and got into the SUV while Bobby gave himself one more stretch. He opened the door and got in, and she started it up. "Coming over?" she asked him.

His eyes snapped to hers. "Okay," he answered. Alex pulled into the lane and started down the road. In his mind, he counted back the days since the last time they'd slept together. Four days. Not that long, but it seemed much longer. He admired her slender fingers on the steering wheel, then turned his head toward the window. Bobby scratched his head.

Now that he was thinking about her, he couldn't seem to stop. He remembered running his hands across her hips and up over her shapely breasts.

His binder nearly fell out of his lap. Bobby caught it with his left hand and cleared his throat as he adjusted his position in the seat. Alex didn't seem to notice.

Thanks to his exceptional memory, his mouth filled with the taste of her. He squirmed in the seat again.

"Are you okay?" she asked, finally realizing that he seemed uncomfortable.

"Sure," he answered. "Hurry up." Bobby smiled at her then.

His smile triggered a whole volley of responses. She felt warm all over. The patch between her legs started to twitch. Her nipples stood at attention.

Now Alex shifted in her seat. She checked the side mirror and changed lanes to pass the five cars in front of her. She heard him clear his throat again, and she felt it in the air between them. His pull was so strong that if he had so much as brushed a finger against her, she would have had to pull over.

She was speeding, and cutting around the cars whenever she got a chance, and it still felt like it took forever to get home. Finally, she cut the engine. She turned to tell him how she was feeling… something, but he was already out of the car. She felt a cool breeze just before he shut his door.

Bobby didn't wait for her. He held the screen door open while she unlocked the apartment to let them in.

She didn't wait for him, either. Once the door was locked again, she yanked at his lapels and tugged eagerly. Her lips were hungry against his, and his hands pulled her body tight against his.

"It's been so long," he breathed in between kisses.

"It's the damn case," she agreed. She paused and hugged him, enjoying the feel of her curves melding with his.

"Make me forget," he whispered.

She looked up into his eyes. His fingers came up to lightly frame her face, and the kissing began again.


	50. Chapter 50

Chapter 50

After a few more kisses, Alex had lost all sense of time. The only thing she was aware of was that delicious pull Bobby had over her. She slipped her hands behind his back and ran them slowly up and down. She snuck them up inside the tail of his shirt, under all the layers.

The sensation of her hands against his bare skin made Bobby pause in the kissing. He closed his eyes with a smile. Alex brought her hands around to his chest, and he moaned in appreciation. Bobby started to unbutton his shirt, his lips and his nose hovering against the crown of her head, until she finally tilted up to look at him again. Their lips met once more.

He discarded one shirt and then Alex pushed the other up until Bobby yanked it over his head. He felt her warm breath snared in the hair of his chest as she kissed her way across him. He pressed his hips closer, aching for the contact. His long fingers tugged at her sweater, sliding it back over her arms. She shrugged out of it, and he pinched at the hem of her blouse until the fabric was tucked into his grasp. She let him pull it over her head.

He kissed her on the lips and then down her neck. His lips reached her breast just as he freed the clasp. She wriggled her arms and dropped the bra to the floor with the rest of their clothes. Her breath was sharp as he suckled her.

She regained enough of her senses to reach for his belt. As his mouth moved against her nipple, she moaned in pleasure. He gasped a couple of times as her fingers slipped from the clasp of his pants to brush against his throbbing cock. As the pants started to fall away, his lips broke contact.

Alex watched him lick his lips and they both paused long enough to shuck the rest of their clothes to the floor. She took him by the hand and led him to her bed.

Bobby got in, looking to her eagerly, and reaching out with one hand as she climbed in after him.

She caressed him, her eyes glowing with desire. "Turn over," she whispered.

He did as he was told, stretching out on his stomach, turning his head against the pillow as his arms folded around it.

Her hands, firm yet soft, kneaded his muscles until they were like putty. Finished, she leaned down and kissed his ear. Her warm breath jolted him back to full attention. Bobby turned, taking her in his arms. As his tongue danced with hers, his stiff cock found its way between her legs, as if it had a mind of its own.

It only took a few bumps before Alex was dripping with desire. She drew back from his kisses and looked deeply into his eyes. Bobby's hand steadied his cock and she sank over him slowly.

It took every ounce of effort he had not to rush things. With great restraint, he moved slowly, feeling her open slowly to accommodate him. Bobby saw the red flush spread up into her cheeks, and he lifted a hand to touch her there. Their eyes met, and she smiled.

Gently, slowly, his hand urged her to lie down. Still inside her, they turned to their sides. They made love lazily, hands caressing over the gentle thrusts, until the urgency overcame them both.

She rolled to her back and he kissed her before taking her again, deep and hard.

Afterwards, she lay beside him, feeling the back of his knuckles drifting gently against her arm. Alex was content. She could feel herself drifting to sleep, but she remembered her recent revelation about how hard it was for her to share her feelings. "I love you, Bobby," she managed to whisper before she fell asleep.

* * *

"She what?" Alex was trying to shake out a couple of aspirin from the bottle with one hand. Bobby walked through, took it from her, handed her two, and took two himself before pouring a cup of coffee. "Where did she get it? She won't say." Alex threw Bobby an exasperated look. "Anonymous. Fine. Yeah. I got it. Have 'em bring him in. We'll interrogate him first thing." She hung up and sighed.

Bobby waited patiently while Alex downed her aspirin. "Ross. Apparently someone gave ADA Niles the murder weapon. Anonymously."

He pressed his lips together, but said nothing.

"It belongs to Lou Cardinal."

"Of course it does."

* * *

Cardinal sat at the table, and Alex laid the handgun before him on top of the evidence bag with a clunk. "It's yours," she said.

"It's legal," he told her. Goren stood behind him, hands in his pockets, leaning against the wall, wondering if this interrogation would do them any good. "It doesn't matter, it's a murder weapon."

"I swear, I gave them blanks to scare people. And I warned Josh, 'Stay back, even a blank can cause powder burns.'"

Alex looked over at Bobby. They had found blanks in Snow's apartment. Bobby sauntered forward as he spoke, his hands still in his pockets. "Evidence and testimony, it all lands on you. You… armed them, and sent them to Kip…" Bobby gestured with his hand to emphasize his point.

"So… is somebody gonna maybe ask me why… I would want the guy dead?"

"Kip was competing with you. Running his own book," Alex explained.

"Every year there's some twinkie like him. One season and they're gone. No one kills them!" He sat back a moment, but a new thought popped into his head and he leaned forward again. "And I sent them to his home, not to that crib where he was banging Angela."

Bobby squinted slightly and glanced over at Alex. "Kip and Angela were sleeping together," she said.

"So?"

Alex looked to Bobby this time, then back at Cardinal. "So maybe you had a more personal reason."

He grinned and shook his head. "Not Angela."

"You got her the Escalade," Bobby said.

"Yeah, because she's a dynamite lay. But that's it. I got a wife and three kids. Family is everything to me."

It was everything Alex could do not to scoff at him. She pulled a face, rolled her eyes in Bobby's direction, and said, "The fact she was having sex with Kip McGonagle didn't bother you?"

"He was one of many. You start killing over Angela, it's gonna be a large body count."

* * *

"The deal was immunity for her." ADA Niles was very displeased that the detectives had called her in, and even more so that they wanted to speak to Angela. She looked over at Ross. "I told you the gun was given to me anonymously."

"Yeah, well it didn't take much to put it together, who gave it to you," Goren said.

"We want to talk to her," said Alex.

"No. I promised her immunity."  
"Fine. She gets immunity, but we need to talk to her." Bobby spoke this time, pacing the perimeter of the conference room as he did.

"Why? What is the big deal? Lou Cardinal is behind it. It's his gun. You told me yourself that Kip McGonagle was taking away his business. That's motive."

Bobby nodded. "It is, but it's weak. And like he said, there's one like that every year."

"Detectives… my job is to prosecute criminals. You handed me Cardinal, and I'm going after him. What do you want from me?" She looked first at Goren, then at Eames, then at Captain Ross.

"We want to get the guy who murdered McGonagle!" said Eames.

Ross cleared his throat, and the group effectively retreated to their corners. "We want to be sure… that whomever you prosecute… is the right one."

"We don't want someone to get away with murder," added Bobby, and he turned to stare at the venetian blinds.

"Fine. You talk to Angela, and then what?"

"We follow through with the information she gives us," answered Alex with a shrug.

* * *

"Tell us how long you worked with Lou Cardinal," said the ADA.

"Three years. We met in Atlantic City."

"E-e-e-exactly what did you do for him?" Asked Goren, pacing around the edge of the room.

"A lot… He wasn't… very appreciative." She gave them an embarrassed smile, and Bobby couldn't help but grin. He put his hands on his hips and simply smiled at Angela. She sounded like a little girl.

"Kip McGonagle owed Lou money," said Alex. "Why would Lou want him dead?"

Angela shook her head, deep in thought. "For reasons… that were personal…. Me…" She shrugged after giving her suggestion.

"Oh, really? Because Lou told us that you weren't worth killing for." Bobby said it quietly, but looked her square in the eye at the end of his sentence.

"So? So what?" She shrugged. "He's not gonna talk to you the way he talks to me."

Bobby gave her a little smile, and a half shrug along with his nod. Alex spoke next. "How did you know about Kip's apartment on Market Street?"

"I took Josh there when Lou said to find Kip… and… uhm…" She threw a look at Goren, who smiled back with an inquiring look of his own. "Okay, so I knew where to find him." She shrugged again. "But I swear, I never thought Kip would end up dead."

They wrapped up the interview, and ADA Niles walked the woman down to the elevator while Goren and Eames shared their thoughts with the Captain. He stepped back out, caught the lawyer in the hall, and escorted her back to the conference room. Politely, he shut his door. "We think immunity for Angela was a mistake," he said.

"It's obvious that she's lying," Bobby explained.

"What's with you people?!" Niles exclaimed. "She brought us the murder weapon!"

"And a story that conveniently hangs… everything… on Lou Cardinal."

"Where it belongs." She stared. "She witnessed the crime! She'll testify that the gun, the ammo, the order to shoot Kip MgGonagle all came from Lou."

"A-a-and wouldn't that put Josh Snow in the perfect position to make a deal?" asked Bobby.

"Quid pro quo is an accepted part of criminal law. Learn to live with it, Detective." She gave them all a glance before she left the room.

Bobby almost called out to her, but decided to drop it. She had Cardinal in her sights, and she really didn't care if he committed the crime or not. Somehow, the eyes of both detectives fell on their Captain.

Ross frowned. He didn't like it, either. "So, if Josh Snow killed Kip McGonagle, you'd better find some evidence or get a confession out of him before he makes his deal," he told them.

With a nod, the two detectives got to their feet and went out to their desks.

"I gotta eat something," Alex said, raking her hand through her hair. "You coming?"

Bobby shook his head. "I'm not hungry."

He had that distant look in his eyes, the one that said he was working the case. She didn't argue with him. "Be back soon," Alex said. He nodded and grunted something in reply, and buried himself in the paperwork inside his binder.

* * *

When she returned, he was in the conference room again, surrounded by evidence bags and newspapers. Bobby's pencil was in his hand and he was working furiously.

Alex recognized it all right away. "Further research of Josh's apartment?" she asked.

"Yeah, Josh's betting numbers," Bobby explained. On the white board behind him was a bunch of scribbling, numbers and equations hastily written during a flurry of thought. Bobby looked up at her, frowned, and ducked his head back down. "Odd for a guy who swore he didn't believe in luck."

"Well, maybe his wife's death changed his beliefs."

"Yeah, but this is more recent." Bobby read over the paper in his hands again. "He's trying to work winning numbers combinations."

"Don't people usually bet numbers they find in their daily lives?"

"Yeah… real gamblers believe they can help providence… uhm… with a little effort." He got to his feet. "Josh picked 1-8-6-4, it's written all over the margins of these papers. They're all dated two weeks before Kip's death… and he bet it several times a day."

"What do you think it is?"

"Well… Josh would have wanted something that was mathematically challenging, right? Something with four digits." He stood by the white board now. He turned to it, showed her the ideas he'd toyed with. "The square root of 1864 is 43.17406." Alex pulled a face and Bobby kept talking. "But the cube root of the digits, of 1, 8, 64… are 1, 2, 4."

"124. 124 Market Street, that's Kip's apartment, where Angela was seeing Kip… You think he was jealous?"

"I-I-I… I don't think he was jealous. I think he was trying to build a hand against Lou… that he found out that she was cheating… and then when the cops investigate the crime, they think that Lou has a motive to kill Kip."

Alex gave him a tiny smile, then buried it behind a frown. It felt good to figure things out, but it was a murder, and that was never something to smile about. "You talk to the Captain?" she asked him.

"No, I wanted to run it by you first."

"I think it's good. I think we tell Ross."

He followed her to the Captain's office. The filled him in. "He's not without a certain brilliance," said the Captain, gathering up his things as he prepared to leave for a meeting. "And you think all this relates to Josh's past?"

They followed the Captain through the squad room. "Well, his father used him as a poker prodigy," Bobby explained. "And then the man who killed his father, he took him in for the same purpose."

"He had very mixed emotions when we sent his mentor to prison," Alex added.

"So then… Lou backs him, takes over the mentor role… it doesn't explain why Josh is sandbagging him." Ross looked back at them, waiting for the answer.

"Well, could be he wants to break away from father figures who controlled him. He's thinking that if he reclaims his life, he'll reclaim his game."

"It's working," said Eames. "We've got a case on Lou, and nothing on him."

"There's still a major piece missing." Ross paused to push the elevator button. "How does a gun loaded with blanks kill Kip McGonagle?"

Bobby put his head down and sighed. "I don't know. I'll bet Josh will play that card, though."

"Maybe that card won't hold up." As he stepped into the elevator car he told them, "I think it's time to force his hand."

The elevator doors shut, and Bobby turned to Alex.

"How the hell do we do that?" she asked no one in particular.

Bobby touched the small of her back and muttered, "C'mon."


	51. Chapter 51

Chapter 51

"It's poker, Eames."

"It's murder, Bobby."

"No, I know, I know… but, still… it's a game. To him. He's playing his cards, and playing the other people, same as tournament poker. And he's damn good at it. That's why we haven't pinned it on him yet."

"Bobby, is this leading to something? Some kind of suggestion on how we do this maybe?"

"We play him. Tell him the case against Lou is… is falling apart. He'll scramble. It'll force his hand."

"If you can pull it off. He thinks he knows your tells, didn't you say that?"

"I can pull it off." Bobby rummaged through the notes in his binder. He realized Alex was staring off into the distance. "What?" he asked her.

Her brow furrowed and she shook her head. "It's just… there's more to this motive than… than breaking away from a mentor. He's angry, Bobby. To go to all this trouble to set up Lou? And how the hell do you get blanks to kill someone?"

"Maybe we ask him." Bobby waited, and saw she was still in thought.

"You remember what I told you? About the loss of a spouse?"

"Yeah, you said…" Suddenly, it dawned on him, what she was trying to say. "You said you're angry. Josh was angry… at Lou."

"And you said yourself nothing will kill your game like anger."

"And he blames Lou for… for everything. Losing her, losing his game. In one hand… he's trying to get his vengeance and get back into the game." Bobby thought longer. "He's playing… everyone. He played Lou, Kip… Angela, Niles, you, me…"

"So how are we gonna get anywhere with this?"

"Well, we… we play him."

"Like how?"

"Look, I have an idea, but I don't think you're gonna like it."

"What, Bobby?"

"It's a… it's a magic trick." He gestured with his hands. "Russian Roulette. You… you load the gun right in front of your audience, you know?"

"You can't be serious."

"It's perfectly safe, let me tell you."

She frowned, but she said no more until he had explained how the trick worked. "And you think you can pull that over on Josh."

"Yeah… yeah, I think I can." He waited, but she gave him no indication that she was willing to go through with it. "What, you have a better idea?" he asked, frustrated.

"No. I've got nothing." With a frown, she nodded. "Okay. Get what you need and let's go."

* * *

They sat with Josh and Angela at his kitchen table. The centerpiece was a round of poker chips. Josh fiddled with a few as he listened to Goren and Eames. "You think Lou might actually beat this?" he asked the detectives.

"Well, Angela will testify that she saw you load blanks," Alex tossed a hand in the woman's direction as she spoke.

"I'll swear to it," promised Angela.

Bobby nodded, and he stared at the murder weapon in his hands. He'd brought it with them, and already had it out of the evidence bag. "I mean, h-how could this gun and-and this bullet kill Kip McGonagle?"

"Well, obviously, I've given this a lot of thought," said Josh. He leaned his weight on his arms against the edge of the table. "What Lou must've done was break the lead off a live round, poke it down into the barrel of that .38."

"You mean turn it into a muzzle loader."

"Yeah. Like the guns in his bar. So I load the blank behind that bullet, fire it… it's deadly."

Bobby opened the chamber on the handgun and spun it as he looked down the empty barrel. He was checking it carefully for a second time tonight, making sure there was no way his plan could backfire. "Right, well, that could work," he said quietly.

"It did work," Josh told him. "It's something I'll regret for the rest of my life."

"Killing Kip?" Bobby asked, "Or getting played?"

"Getting played?"

The two men stared at each other a moment, each trying to read the other's tells. Bobby replied to his question. "Yeah, well, your game had gone bad. You needed to… turn yourself around, right?" Bobby looked as sincere as ever.

Josh laughed, still staring, still studying Goren's face. Finally, he looked over at Angela and shook his head. "You're wrong," he said, and got to his feet.

"No, I don't know, Lou goes down, you get a suspended sentence, and… what's left of Lou's empire, Angela." Goren glanced over at her as he said this.

"Knowing Angela was cheating on Lou set everything in motion," Alex explained.

"Josh, what are they saying?" asked the girl.

He clapped his hands together. "They're fishing," he told her. "It's their game."

Alex continued, "If he got you to lie in your proffer, your immunity is gone."

Before Angela could reply, Goren pulled the hammer back on the .38. The loud click distracted everyone. He glanced around the room once more, and decided to follow through with it. Bobby stood and walked over to Josh, reaching into his pocket as he did so.

Snow was absently shuffling a deck of cards in his hand.

"Josh," Bobby called, "I know that you're… you're-you're good at card tricks." He made a point to hold the gun where Snow could see him load it. "You're amazing with your hands… that he can palm a live round," Bobby turned and explained to the women. He turned back to Josh, then looked back to the ladies, holding the seemingly loaded gun in his hand, the barrel pointed inward, almost at himself. "Did I just load this?" he asked them all.

"Yeah," said Snow.

"Yeah? Did you see me load it?" he asked Angela.

She nodded. "Sure."

"Careful with that," Josh called, as Goren swung it around, gesturing with the hand that held the gun.

"Why?" Bobby asked. "Is it loaded,uh, or is it empty?" He smiled.

"I know what I saw," said Josh. "What is this?"

"Oh yeah? You wanna bet?" With one swipe of his foot, Bobby kicked over the coffee table, spilling things all over the floor. He continued to move toward Josh. "You wanna bet that I don't have the rage to take a life like you did?" Goren punctuated his sentence by holding the gun very close to Snow's head. He saw the fear on the younger man's face. He knew he was pulling it off.

"I don't have rage, Goren," said Josh, and he moved a little away.

Bobby strutted and walked past. "Oh yeah?" He turned back to Josh. "You know… you let Penelope die."

"I didn't let her die, don't you ever say that." He didn't raise his voice, but there was anger in his face.

"Yeah, you did, it's obvious. Your rage… you know, it-it destroyed your ability…your ability to read things."

"I didn't miss anything."

Bobby cocked the gun and held it up between them. "You did!" he almost pointed it at Josh, but at the last second, kept it up in the air.

"There's a live round in there!" Josh cried.

Angela gaped at them, her heart racing. Alex closed her eyes and prayed that Bobby would keep his head.

"No, you missed!" said Goren. "You did! You missed her… her tremors, you know? Her-her slurred speech, her-her dizzy spells. And-and-and now, I'm playing you," Bobby said, with a quick glance at the gun.

"Nobody's playing me."

Bobby thought about telling him. It's what he'd promised Alex he would do. But now, inches from Josh, in the heat of the moment, it didn't feel right. He wrestled with himself for a moment, trying to make the decision. "You missed her tells, Josh," Bobby finally said.

"Missed her tells?"

Bobby smiled. "Yes."

Now the rage bubbled to the surface. "I missed her tells, huh? I missed… I missed glass, breaking in the middle of the night?" He pointed to the kitchen. "I missed her in the kitchen with all the lights on, telling me that it's dark?" He walked toward the kitchen as he spoke, and Bobby followed. "Telling me, she can't see her feet, cut and bleeding from the mustard jar that she dropped? I held her, and I cleaned up the glass. But it didn't matter. It was too late."

Bobby pressed on. "Where were you for the early signs? Atlantic City? Las Vegas? Were you at Lou's table?"

Josh turned back and walked to the other end of the room again. Bobby kept step with him. "He said, 'you're slacking, Josh! It's time at the tables that makes a champion, all wives call and complain.'" Snow stopped walking and turned back to the others. "Like I cared about the tables! You know, all-all-all I wanted was to be with her! He took that away from me."

Goren stepped closer again. He put his face inches away from the younger man's. "He played you." Bobby pushed Josh back against the wall with a palm to his chest. "Lou played you like I'm playing you now." He held the gun up in the air again.

"No, I played him. He's in jail right now, pissing himself because I put him there. For _her_."

Bobby put a gentle but firm hand on Josh's shoulder. "You killed Kip MgGonagle?"

"You're damn right I did." Goren nodded, and Josh kept talking. "It was part of the game. Nobody plays me."

With a relieved nod, Alex sat back and scratched her upper lip.

Bobby thought it over once more, and though he knew it wouldn't fly with Alex, he held the gun to his head and pulled the trigger. All they heard was a tiny click.

He dropped the gun down and showed Josh. "Well, see, you're wrong. Josh, it's an old magician's trick, you see?" He held up his thumb, which still held the bullet. "Beeswax on the thumb… just an old… trick." Bobby felt sorry for him. "You're gonna have to… call your lawyer. Tell him to meet you downtown, okay?" Goren turned his back and walked away from Snow, not the least bit worried that the man would retaliate.

Alex glared at him, and Bobby avoided her eyes. He called for the uniforms, and Alex arrested Josh. Bobby placed another call to ADA Niles, and they arrested Angela, as well.

He maintained his silence as he got into the car with her. She'd held her tongue for almost an hour, now, and in the privacy of the SUV, she let loose.

"Bobby, what the hell was that?"

He pursed his lips. "I was playing him. Like we discussed."

"No, that wasn't what we discussed. At no time did we discuss you holding the damn gun on him or on you."

"I didn't hold it on him. Never once."  
"You came close enough."

Bobby sighed.  
"I mean, you just gave him his out. No way will that confession hold up in court."

"I didn't hold the gun on him!"

"That's not what his lawyer will say."

Bobby smacked the door with his hand. "Damn it!"

The car was icy silent for a few minutes. "It's… it's all right," Goren said, having convinced himself.

"What?"

"Josh… his lawyer may suggest it, but he won't back down. He-he-he'll stick to his confession. He's proud. He's proud that he played Lou Cardinal. He got his revenge."

"Well, let's hope so, Bobby." She still frowned, but she said no more.


	52. Chapter 52

Chapter 52

"How's Bobby?" Liz was folding laundry, stacking the clothes on the cushions of the couch.

Alex folded one of Nate's shirts and shrugged. "I don't know, fine, I guess."

"Uh-oh."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Did something happen?"

"No, nothing happened. Well, except for a stupid decision he made."

"So you're upset with him."

Alex folded three more things before she answered. "Yes. I guess so."

"Something on or off the clock?" asked Liz.

"On."

"How bad was it?"

Alex shrugged.

"Bad enough to request a new partner?"

"Of course not."

"Bad enough to end the romance?"

Alex shrugged again.

"Okay, let me see if I've got this straight. Bobby did something _at work_ that you didn't approve of, and it's not going to affect your relationship at work but it might end your relationship outside of work." Liz picked up a pile of folded clothes and stared at Alex until she gave her that look, the one that told her she could see common sense. Liz smiled when she saw it, and went down the hall to put the clothes away. When she came back out for another armful, she asked her sister, "So what will you do about it?"

"I guess I'll call him."

"When?"

"I don't know when! When I'm not mad about it anymore."

"So… Bobby did something _at work…"_

"All right, I get it already. Change the subject, will you?" Alex handed Liz another pair of little boy pants and flopped on the empty couch as she watched her sister carry them to Nate's room.

* * *

Bobby's hands worked non-stop, making a coin appear and reappear in his fingers, up his sleeve, or behind the cup on the table. Lewis noticed tonight's obsession with magic. He knew there was something troubling his friend.

"So she's mad at you. Big deal? You guys are always arguing about something."

The coin vanished again, and Bobby's hands stopped momentarily. "Always?" Bobby asked, and then made the coin reappear.

Lewis shrugged. "More or less. Look, Bobby, we're not kids any more. You're in this relationship with her, and it's not going anywhere. I mean, be honest. Do you really dream of marriage with her?"

Goren shook his head.

"Right, of course you don't. Neither does she. But you love each other. It just is. It's not going anywhere, but it's not going away, either."

"What made you a clairvoyant? I don't know if it's going anywhere. How the hell could you?"

Lewis shrugged. "Has she said anything, Bobby? Anything about the future? Dropped any hints?"

"No, of course not. She was married once, she lost her husband. Why would she want to go there again?"

"Or even living together? Have you ever discussed it?"

"No, but the job… you know, we have to keep it under wraps."

Lewis' smile said everything he needed to say. "Look, Bobby, I'm trying to tell you not to worry. She loves you. There's nothing you could do that would change that."

"Who says I'm worried?" he challenged. If Eames didn't need the relationship, neither did he. It was as simple as that.

"All right, all right. I'm hungry. Are you gonna eat or what?"

Finally, Bobby put the coin away for good. He followed his friend out the door and down the street to the Italian place on the corner. They'd barely gotten through the appetizers when the detective's phone rang. "Goren," he said, and turned his eyes up to a cobweb in the corner of the ceiling. "Yeah, yeah, okay. I'll check flights, I'll get there sometime tomorrow. All right, Captain. Sooner is better. All right. Yeah." He ended the call and stared at the cell for a minute.

"Going somewhere?" Lewis asked.

"Tennessee on a consult."

"Sounds kinda fun."

"It does?"

"Country music, comfort food, you know."

Bobby sighed and checked his phone. Eames still hadn't called. He wondered if she would. "I'd rather stay here," he admitted.

"Go. Go, and have fun. You and she, you don't have any rules between you. Maybe that's why you're so bugged about this. Go to Tennessee. Maybe the change of scenery will do you good."

"It would give me time to think…"

"There ya go. Only do me a favor while you're there. Don't spend the whole time working. Do something fun for once."

* * *

It was almost midnight when he finally had his travel arrangements worked out. Bobby thought it over and called Alex.

"Eames," she said, and he knew he'd woken her.

"Sorry, Alex. I didn't mean to wake you."

"Bobby, God, what time is it?" She got up and checked the clock.

"It's uh, midnight. Alex, I'm going out of town."

"What?"

"Ross called me. He's sending me to Nashville on a consult. I leave first thing in the morning. I, uh… I just wanted you to know, you know."

"Okay, uh, when will you be back?"

"I don't know. I guess maybe after I find out about the case, you know, maybe I'll know how long." He rubbed his neck. "Look, I, uh… I should let you sleep."

"Okay, Bobby. Thanks for calling."

"Okay, good night, Eames."

"Bobby?"

"Yeah?"

"Safe trip, okay?"

"Sure, okay."

"Bye." They both hung up reluctantly, each one feeling like they hadn't said enough. It took a good long time for sleep to come.


End file.
